Little Acorn
by Colors of Iris
Summary: One mistake. One wayward soul. Now, running around Konoha is a small, blind girl, who by all rights should not exist. What are the consequences that arise from a reincarnation that was never supposed to happen? And who knows what changes would be wrought should the memories of a past life ever be regained... — OC self-insert. Gen. [semi-hiatus]
1. delphinium

**Preface (not really):**

So after years of lurking, I finally gather enough courage to create an account and post my own story. The story in question? It's a self-insert fic.

...I know, I'm incorrigible.

I'm not a very motivated person in general, but I _do_ care about improving my writing. So yeah, I will probably update like a slug and take about twenty years to finish (if I finish at all, which is unlikely) but hopefully I'll still get something out of it. At the very least, it'll be interesting to see how long I last.

Also, I'd like to mention that much of this was inspired by Silver Queen's _Dreaming of Sunshine_. (Read it now if you haven't already; it's well written and contains some wonderfully thoughtful analysis on various aspects of the Narutoverse.) If you see any elements in my story that are similar to hers, then there you go.

Now, without further ado, I present you:

* * *

**Little Acorn**

.

-1-

delphinium

_to transcend the bounds of space and time_

.

.

.

_It is happening again._

_The cycle has begun anew, and Spring has once more risen from the depths of Winter. All is well._

_**A little green sprout**_

_The beginning of a new end._

_**shoulders its way out of the earth**_

_New and different, and yet the heart is the same. It is happening again._

_**it twines and grows**_

_All is well..._

_**colored by seasons past**_

_...No. Something is wrong._

_**splits into two flower buds, fast asleep**_

_Two cannot share a single set of roots. It is wrong._

_**waiting for the day**_

_It is happening again, but not the way it's supposed to__**.**_

_**that they bloom**__._

_It is wrong. It is wrong. It is wro__**—**_

.

.

.

"Let—let me see."

A gasp.

"Her eyes—!"

"Yes."

"Can anything be done?"

"We tried what we could, but her optic nerve was deformed beyond repair. I'm very sorry, Akadou-san, but the child will probably be blind for life."

.

.

.

Fear.

It was everywhere.

What was happening?

It was very dark.

_But it's always dark._

No...it was _**dark**_. Dark enough to claw at your heart, dark enough to chill the warmth beneath your skin. It reached deep inside you until all you could feel was _dark _and _heavy _and _fear fearfearfear_—

Something howled in the distance.

I shivered and burrowed deeper into my brother's side. Tried to calm the roiling panic in my chest. But I couldn't, not really. The air was stifling. Everything smelled like _fear_.

"Where's Mom and Dad?" My voice sounded so small.

"Don't worry," said my brother, not really answering my question. "They'll be back soon."

I didn't believe him. Couldn't. His voice trembled and I could feel the _fear_ curling off his skin.

There was a distant boom. Frantic yelling.

"Promise?" I asked, trying to ignore the screams.

"I promise. Go back to sleep, Miyo."

I obliged, though it was more for his sake than mine. When I finally did fall asleep, though, it was far from relaxing. Monsters haunted my dreams that evening—nightmarish demons that I should never have been able to see.

The next morning, I woke up feeling strangely empty. The _fear_ was gone, and the air was once again light and quietly humming. I propped myself up on my bed next to my snoring brother and waited for my parents to come back.

It was four days before my mother came back from the hospital.

My father never came back at all.

.

.

.

Whistle. Thud.

"Yoroi-nii-san?"

"Mmn?"

Whistle. Thud.

"What are you doing?"

"Throwing kunai."

Whistle. Thud.

"...Eh?"

"You know...training. Got to keep in shape for the academy. I'm gonna be a ninja, you know? Like mom."

My heart skipped a beat. Mom was a ninja? Were we...a family of ninja?

_Ninja. Assassin. Swathed in black, bringer of death_.

"We kill people?" I squeaked, and then stopped. Where did that thought come from?

"Well, yeah," he said, matter-of-fact. "But ninja don't just go around killing people, you know. They _protect_ things. Like the village, and the civilians. It's an _honor_ to be a ninja."

I played with my fingers and stayed silent, unsure of how to respond. Then there was another whistling sound, quickly followed by a _thud_, and I knew he had resumed training. After a moment he began to talk again.

"When I become a ninja, Mom won't have to work so hard, 'cause I'm gonna get paid. And then I'll become strong enough to protect you, Miyo."

I stopped fiddling with my fingers. "Protect me?"

There was a chuckle. "Big brothers gotta look out for their little sisters. You know?"

The warmth beneath my skin hummed and grew a little warmer. "Yeah."

We both fell silent after that. Yoroi continued flinging kunai, and I flopped down in the grass of our backyard, enjoying the tickly feeling of the blades as they brushed against my skin. If I concentrated, very hard, I could even sense the vibrant feeling of _life_ that the plants exuded. It was very much like the humming warmth that ran through my own body, but a bit different.

It was as I pondered this strange phenomenon that another thought occurred to me.

"So you train all the time," I said, over the rhythmic sounds of whistling and thudding. "Is that why you never play with me anymore?"

He was amused. I could tell. "Aww, didja miss me, Miyo-chan?"

I grinned. "Mm, not really."

"Hmmph. Brat."

Whistle, whistle, whistle.

Oh, was that three kunai at the same time? Wow, that seemed like it would take a lot of skill—

Splat. Splat. Splat.

Hmm, that didn't sound good. And judging by the location of the sound in the backyard...

"That was Mom's favorite tomato plant," I said.

Yoroi cursed.

.

.

.

My brother graduated.

It was a big event and all of us were excited; even Mom was taking a day off from hospital work to come to the graduation ceremony. Ever since Dad...left us, Mom had to work twice as hard to keep food on the table. Late nights, double shifts...

We barely ever spent time with Mom anymore.

"Your brother is up next," Mom whispered happily, breaking me out of my thoughts. With one hand, she gently turned my face towards the direction of Yoroi. Not that I needed it; I could tell where he was just from the feeling of his _vibrancy_.

"Akadou Yoroi," one of the chuunin instructors intoned, and the ceremony commenced.

I did not know exactly what happened during the ceremony, and I didn't care. All that mattered was my brother's presence as he _blazed _with pride and joy.

"What are you humming?" Mom asked.

Surprised, I blinked. _I didn't even realize..._

"The Graduation March," I said, without thinking.

Mom laughed. "How fitting! Did you make it up yourself?"

"No, I—" I paused, confused.

_Pomp and Circumstance. March No. 1, The Graduation March. _It was familiar, but...

I was pretty certain I'd never heard of it before.

"I guess I did," I finally said.

"Mom! Miyo!"

Ah, that was my brother. He was still radiating joy; up close, it was like being next to the sun. My own warmth responded to his and I felt myself growing happier, lighter.

I smiled. "Nii-san! Congratulations!"

"Thanks, imouto-chan! It's kind of amazing, you know, I still can't believe I graduated, but I did, and the forehead protector is really cool!" he enthused, beginning to babble. "Earlier I thought I'd attach the forehead protector to my bandana, you know. The sewing was hard but Mom helped and—well? How does it look?"

For a second I just blinked, unsure of what to say.

Yoroi seemed to pick up on this, since there was a sudden slapping noise. (Did he just slap his own face? He certainly did that a lot.)

"Sorry, Miyo, sometimes I forget—"

"It's okay, nii-san," I cut in, not liking how guilty he felt. "I think you're very pretty! Almost like a girl!"

There was a spluttering sound, and my brother instantly switched from apologetic to indignant.

"Why you little—"

I gave a small shriek and tried to flee. Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough to escape his brutal tickle attack.

"Save me, Mom!" I cried out in between helpless giggles. "The pretty monster is attacking me!"

Yoroi growled and increased the tickling intensity.

Mom just laughed.

.

.

.

"...and then you end the downwards sweep with a hook," Mom lectured, guiding my hand in hers as I held the pencil. "There, see? Now let's retrace it a few times so you can get the hang of it."

"Okay," I said, trying to ignore the niggling feeling at the back of my mind.

We repeated it a few times, and the niggling feeling evolved into full-blown unease when I realized I recognized the characters.

美代

_Mei dai._

But that didn't make sense. There was no way. Just _no way_.

"Mom?" I asked, as I retraced the words for the seventh or eighth time.

"Hmm?"

I squashed down my apprehension. "What does it say?"

"It's the kanji for your name, dear. _Miyo._"

"Oh." I wasn't sure if I felt relieved or disappointed to be wrong.

_But I was so sure..._

I frowned and shook it off. It didn't matter. Sighing inwardly, I cast my mind about in an effort to change the subject.

"Hey, Mom, you're going to teach me reading and writing and stuff, right?"

"Yes, that's what I said," she replied patiently.

I pondered this a little. She had more time to spare, now that Yoroi was also bringing in money for the family. It wasn't much, but it was something. She could, at least, afford to spend time teaching me now.

"So am I still going to school?"

There was a brief hesitation. Then:

"Maybe a bit later, Miyo-chan. I'm not sure I want you out of the house by yourself just yet."

My brow furrowed. "Am I going to be a ninja? Like you and Yoroi-nii-san?"

A much longer hesitation, this time.

"I don't think so," she finally said, very gently. A vague sense of sadness leaked from her, like cold drops of rain. It mingled with my own vibrancy, and I felt the warmth under my skin cool in response.

"Oh," I said again. Once more with the warring feelings of relief and disappointment.

"I think that's enough for today," Mom said, with that same gentle tone. "Why don't you head off for bed? Here, I'll help you."

I let her guide me to my bedroom, even though I could have easily done it myself.

.

.

.

"Do you like it, Miyo?"

"What is it?" I asked my brother, fingering the tube-like object he had just presented to me.

"It's a bamboo flute. Here, you hold it like _this_—" he positioned my fingers over carved holes, and moved the flute so that the headjoint met my lips. "See! And then you blow."

I blew. A thin, reedy noise sprang from the instrument.

"Oh," I said, delighted, and immediately began experimenting with different fingerings. It was strange; I knew I'd never played a flute before in my life, but it just felt _right_.

"You were always singing and making up your weird little tunes, you know," said Yoroi, sounding pleased with himself. "So I thought, 'why don't I get her an instrument for her birthday?' Took about a mission's worth of pay, but I think it was worth it!"

_A mission's worth of pay._

Of course. I had almost forgotten. With Yoroi working as a genin, I was the only one not actively contributing to the family.

_Dead weight._

I slowly lowered the flute and set it on the table.

"Uh, Miyo? You in there?"

"It's perfect," I said. "Thank you."

"Well, um, I'm glad you like it," he said, sounding uncertain.

Mom must have sensed the heavy atmosphere because she hastily intervened. "Why don't you open my present, Miyo-chan?"

There was a light shuffling noise, and a small box was pressed into my fingers. Mechanically, I peeled off the wrapping paper and opened the box. Why did they even bother to wrap the gifts? It wasn't as if I could see them anyway.

"They're lavender seeds," Mom explained when I didn't say anything.

"Oh. Thank you, Mom."

"I'll show you how to care for them later. Lavender has the most gorgeous smell, I'm sure you'll like it."

"Okay," I said, voice blank. Carefully, I set down the packet of seeds next to the flute.

"If you get good enough with the plants, maybe one day you could help me in the hospital greenhouse!"

_Gardener, huh?_

"Mom, what do you think I'll be when I grow up?"

Mom hmm'ed. "You've only just turned five, Miyo-chan. There's still a lot of time."

I fidgeted a bit. "But what _can_ I be when I grow up?"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Yoroi spoke up hesitantly. "Miyo, I'm sure there will be plenty of safe jobs for you to choose from later..."

My head drooped. A safe job. A _safe_ job.

My entire family were ninja. You couldn't ask for a more dangerous job than that. Dad had died in the line of duty, defending the village from the Kyuubi attack. Mom was a medic, but when the time called for it she was in the field, fighting as hard as anyone. And Yoroi...well, his missions weren't exactly going to get easier.

It seemed awfully unfair that I would get some cushy job watering plants while they were all out there, constantly risking their _lives_.

_It's an honor to be a ninja._

I clenched my fists. Maybe I was being arrogant. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself. Maybe I was too young, too small, too weak...

But I couldn't help but hope that one day, I'd grow into something great.

_And then I'll be strong enough to protect you..._

"Well, what do you want to be, Miyo-chan?" Mom asked, voice quiet.

I lifted my chin and stared directly at where I knew her face would be.

"I want to be a ninja."

* * *

.

_It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped._

-Tony Robbins

.

* * *

**A/N:**

Yes. _That_ Akadou Yoroi. You've probably noticed that I'm taking some liberties with his character development. I mean, I kind of have to; in the manga he appears for like one chapter and is never seen nor heard of again. And we don't really gain much from that brief glimpse—we never even see what his face looks like. As for why I chose _him_ of all people? Eh, I dunno. I guess his chakra sucking ability intrigues me. (Lame reason, I know.)

Concerning Miyo: she does not know about her reincarnation. She may have a few random flashes of memory, but for the most part, it's all gone.

Finally, if you find any errors (spelling, grammar, Mary Sue-ism, Japanese phrases and terminology, ambiguity, continuity, etc.) please feel free to tell me. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Forgive me for monologuing, and thank you all for reading!

_-Colors of Iris_


	2. cherry

**A/N:**

There's a quick POV shift in the beginning. Just a heads up.

* * *

**Little Acorn**

.

-2-

cherry

_a good education_

.

.

.

"You did _what_."

"We sent him on a covert operation to—"

"Ugh, I know what you did! _You_, on the other hand, seem to have no idea what you've just condemned him to."

"Nii-san, calm down and think. If the mission is successful—"

"Irrelevant, because it won't be."

"_If_ the mission is successful, our village will be greatly strengthened. And _if by chance _he fails, we'd still have plausible deniability."

"This isn't about plausible deniability. You don't understand, he's going to be killed!"

"Your concern for your fellow ninja is commendable, but don't you think you ought to have a little more faith in your Head?"

"He. Will. Be. Killed. Killed, as in dead, as in gone, as in _not alive anymore_."

"I _understand _what the word means."

"Then why aren't you doing anything?"

"There is nothing to be done. Everything is fine. Now, if you're finished—"

"The hell I am—"

"Nii-san. Please. This conversation is over."

"But—"

"_Over._"

.

.

.

My fingers fumbled a bit, but I managed to tie the jute around the stems.

"Is this okay?" I held up my bundle of herbs for Mom to inspect.

"Hmm...a bit tighter, I think."

I pulled harder. "Like this?"

"Yes," she decided after a pause. "Very good. Now, we hang them to dry—remember, no direct sunlight."

"I know."

Mom proceeded to show me how to hang the herbs, guiding my hands as she pinned each bundle with wooden clothespins. Once I began getting the hang of it (no pun intended), she left me to my own devices and began working on a new row.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes?" Herbs rustled as she did her work.

"Why do we hang them upside-down?"

"That's a good question. You see, we hang the plants upside-down because we want all the natural oils to travel into the leaves. That way we can better access them."

_Well, I guess that makes sense,_ I thought as I reached out to grab another bunch. It wasn't until my hand groped thin air that I realized we'd finished.

"Almost done," Mom said. "Stay here for a second, please? I need to get the paper bags."

Light footsteps sounded out as she left the room. I didn't mind waiting here. The scent of fresh herbs was very pleasant—wispy-cool and subtly sharp all at the same time.

A faint _taptaptap_ heralded the return of my mother. Paper bags crinkled as she set them down on the table next to me.

"Here, Miyo-chan, help me tie the bags onto the herbs."

"What are they for?"

"We want to protect them from contamination. And this way, we can also collect any seeds that might fall off. Here, you tie it on like _this_"—I felt warm hands envelop mine, reaching up to tie the paper bags around the stems—"yes, just like that. Not too tight, now."

As we worked, I noted all the different aromas; Mom had gathered a variety of herbs, and each type had a unique smell. It was actually kind of fun, experiencing and trying to differentiate between the various scents.

I paused over one bunch that was particularly aromatic. "Mom, what kind of herb is this? It smells nice."

"It does, doesn't it? It's called sage."

_Sage._ I took a deep breath and memorized its smell.

"How about this one?" I indicated another clipped bundle.

"That one is lavender."

_So this is lavender._ I decided I liked its scent.

"Are you going to tell me about the other herbs, too?"

Mom laughed. "Well aren't you the curious one today! Don't worry, dear. Soon I'll be teaching you everything I know about plants. After all, you'll need to be as prepared as possible if you're going to be a ninja someday."

.

.

.

The sun warmed my back as I sat with Mom in the garden. Something brushed the edge of my senses and I wondered if it was one of Yoroi's teammates—it did feel familiar—

_Concentrate_.

"Rosemary," I said, focusing back on the task at hand.

"Correct. This one?"

"Daisy. Wait, no—dandelion."

"Good. How about..."

"Myrrh."

"Yes. Try..."

I smiled at the familiar scent. _Easy._ "Lavender."

"Well done, Miyo-chan! You're very good at this!"

I ducked my head. Although I wouldn't ever admit it, I enjoyed the praise. "It's not that hard, Mom. They all feel pretty different."

"Feel?" Mom said quizzically. "But you didn't touch any of them—weren't you going by smell?"

Smell was certainly one method of differentiation, but there was something else—something more recognizable, more fundamental than any scent could ever be.

"They feel different," I repeated, unsure of how to explain. "Like, um...you know, the _vibrancy._"

"The...what?"

"Vibrancy." I gestured around myself. "The stuff that sort of hums everywhere...the warmth under your skin?"

For a few seconds, Mom was silent. Then she spoke, and her voice was low and thoughtful. "You say it's everywhere? This, ah, vibrancy?"

"Yeah," I said. "Inside people, inside plants, even in the air. It's different for different plants, so that's how I can tell."

Mom fell silent again. I began to feel just a bit uneasy; the silence this time was...intense, somehow. Even the warm sun that had been so pleasant before now made me feel sticky and uncomfortable. My fingers, needing something to do, started to pluck at grass blades.

"Mom?" I ventured, when I could no longer stand the silence. My voice seemed to snap her out of whatever reverie she was in.

"Yes?"

"Um...is something wrong?"

"It's nothing, dear. Just thinking," Mom assured me. She then paused, as if considering something. "Tell me, have you ever heard of 'chakra'?"

.

.

.

Ever since I could remember, there was _vibrancy_. It ran flush through every living being; it sang beneath my skin; the very air thrummed with it. It was my vision, my crutch, my _world._ Without it I'd be lost in the darkness.

Mom said it was called chakra.

I don't know why I was so surprised to hear it had a name; it just always seemed so...untouchable. Mysterious. Nameless. Assigning it a name felt wrong, as if in doing so I was stripping it of some vital part of its very being—its very identity.

_Although,_ a part of me rationalized, _I guess people had to call it _something.

According to Mom, it took most children a while to become aware of their own chakra, not to mention the chakra around them. I don't know if I was a natural sensor or if it was just something I had developed to make up for lost eyesight. Maybe both. In any case, Mom was very pleased, and decided that I should take full advantage of my ability by "strengthening my spatial awareness."

So she built an obstacle course.

Which leads me to my current situation...

"Oof!" I fell over.

"Alright, Miyo-chan?" came the distant voice of my mother.

"I'm fine," I called back, rubbing my arm. I had misjudged the distance between myself and the potted plant. Frowning, I concentrated on the feel of the plant's warmth—_chakra_, I reminded myself—and began to edge my way around it.

There, made it. Oh, was that a wall? It did seem to possess a distinct _lack_ of chakra. I reached my hand out and gave an experimental prod. Yes, definitely a wall.

I inched sideways, not wanting to collide with the wall, when I noticed something near me—a chakra that was warm and oily-smooth. Some sort of plant, maybe? It felt familiar, so it was probably one of the many that Mom showed to me. Whatever it was, it was curled all over the ground and had twined itself along the wall like ivy—

_Ivy_. My eyes widened and I froze in mid-step.

_Poison ivy._

Mom was so _mean_.

Closing my eyes (not that it really made a difference in perception, but it did help me focus, and focus was what I needed right now), I took a deep breath, estimated the position of the poisonous plant, stretched my foot over it, tried to ease out of the way—

—and tripped. And got a faceful of poison ivy.

_I can't believe I misjudged the distance. Again._

Horrified, I scrambled off the plant and tried to get away. In my haste, I managed about three steps across the uneven ground before I tripped—_again_—and smacked into a wall. _Ouch._

Five falls and seven collisions later, I made it out of the labyrinth. I must have seemed a very unhappy mess—my arms and legs were riddled with bruises, and my face was swelling up rather magnificently.

"That was very good for your first try," Mom said as she rubbed something on my face.

_Jewelweed_, I thought, before my brain caught up to Mom's words.

"Wait—_first _try?" I said, before wincing. Talking was painful and made my face stretch.

"Of course," she said airily, with a hint of amusement. "Didn't I tell you? We'll be doing this daily from now on!"

.

.

.

Mom and I were having dinner when a very panicked Yoroi burst through the front door.

"Oh my god!"

"Um...Yoroi-nii-san?"

"Oh my _god_!"

"Yoroi-nii-san, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? I'm going to die!"

"Yoroi-kun, please calm down and take your shoes off. I just cleaned the floor this morning."

Mom's serene tone seemed to do the trick because I felt his chakra settle down.

After he'd washed his hands and seated himself at the table, Mom began to talk again. "Now, what's this I hear about dying?"

"I passed the second stage of the chuunin exams," Yoroi said. He sounded miserable.

"...Isn't that a good thing?"

My brother sighed. "You know the one-on-one matches in the finals? The guy I'm supposed to fight first is a freaking monster."

"Who are you fighting?" asked Mom.

"Some psychopath from Ame named Kiri- something or other. You didn't see him; in the second stage he was literally _slaughtering _people left and right."

Oh. Well, that didn't sound so good. "When are the finals?"

"In a month. I am _so_ gonna die."

"No one is going to die," Mom said firmly. "You'll just have to work hard this month, won't you?"

Yoroi didn't respond. His chakra had dimmed over the course of our conversation; it reminded me of the frail heat of a dying light bulb. Dull, weak, despondent.

I didn't like it.

Making up my mind, I reached over and tugged at his sleeve. When I was certain I had his attention, I gave him a small smile. "Don't worry, nii-san, I believe in you. The crazy Ame ninja doesn't stand a chance."

It was cheesy and a bit embarrassing, yes, but sincere as well. And when I felt my brother's spirits lift, I decided that it was more than worth it.

.

.

.

My brother spent the next month working himself into the ground. Given the amount of time he spent at the training grounds—he all but _lived_ there—I was certain he'd do fine in the last stage of the exams.

Yoroi, on the other hand, didn't seem to think so.

He was shaking so hard I could feel it. From three feet away.

"You okay, nii-san?" I asked.

"Y-yeah," he said, not convincing me in the least.

Hoping to ease his nerves, I handed him a small pouch. Time to show him what _I'd_ been working on for the past month. "Here, take this."

"Oh. Thanks. Uh...what is it?"

"Energy pill, blood pill, healing cream," I said, pointing at each pocket as I listed them. "Mom's secret recipe."

Yoroi grip slackened; if I hadn't been holding on to the pouch he would have dropped it. "Oh wow, I—you two—you actually made all this? For me?"

I poked him, a little exasperated. "Well, yeah. Mom and I wanted to help."

"It was your sister's idea," Mom said, patting my head. "Although I did most of the work," she added teasingly.

For a moment my brother was speechless. Then the dam broke.

"Omi_god_ thank you thank you so much you know you guys are the best sister and mom in the whole world I love you now I might not die after all—"

We waited patiently for him to finish his tirade. When he finally ran out of steam, a slapping noise sounded out (a faceplam?) and my brother's (significantly less frantic) voice spoke up. "Sorry, I guess I was a bit more high-strung than I thought..."

"If you're really that worried, you could always drop out and try again next year," came Mom's amused voice.

"No way!" he said immediately, which surprised me. I had expected him to agree, or laugh it off, or—at the very least—consider her suggestion. But if anything, Mom's offhand comment seemed to strengthen my brother's resolve. "I mean..." he trailed off, voice turning pensive. "I failed the past two chuunin exams, you know. But Iwashi made chuunin on his first attempt. I can't let myself fall behind any further, I've gotta at least _try_. You know?"

I smiled. "We know."

A bell sounded and the proctor called for all the contestants to make their way to the center of the stadium.

Yoroi breathed in deeply. "Well, I guess this is it. Wish me luck."

My smile widened to a grin. "Don't be silly, nii-san. You don't need luck."

As Yoroi went to the center of the stadium, Mom and I made our way up into the stands. At first, I didn't dare let go of Mom's hand—the stadium was large and crowded and _loud_. It was disorienting, too; with so many chakra signatures squashed together in one place, I could barely think straight, never mind walk straight. It took me a long while to adjust to my surrroundings.

The fights weren't easy to follow, either. I had to rely on my mother's explanations, which were often riddled with ninja jargon that I couldn't comprehend. Even so, when Yoroi's turn came, I was instantly on the edge of my seat demanding to know what was going on. In my agitation, I made Mom narrate the entire fight even though I didn't understand half of what she said.

After nearly ten minutes of fighting, Yoroi surprised everyone (including himself, I think) by managing to pull off a last-second win against his psychotic adversary. The entire stadium was roaring with applause, and I don't think I'd ever felt so proud in my life.

Our family returned home that day in high spirits. When evening came, I helped Mom make a celebratory dinner for the three of us, in honor of Yoroi's victory and not-death.

"Do you think you'll pass?" I asked my brother as I picked up my chopsticks.

"I dunno. Probably not, since I barely won the first match and forfeited the second."

"We'll see in time," said Mom, the ever-patient one. "No use worrying over it now."

And so the matter was temporarily laid to rest.

.

.

.

Mom handed me the teapot.

"Chamomile?" I asked, recognizing the scent.

"Yes. Careful, it's hot."

"I know, Mom," I said before pausing. A familiar chakra signature was rapidly approaching the house. "Oh, I think nii-san is home."

The door _slammed_ open, prompting me to spill the tea all over my breakfast. I knew my brother was coming, yes, but that didn't mean I was prepared for the sheer amount of noise that preceded his arrival.

Mom, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the dramatic entrance and merely greeted him with a "Hello, Yoroi-kun."

"Mom, Miyo! You'll never guess!"

I poked at my tea-drenched rice, before deciding that it was still edible. "What is it?" I asked, turning my attention back to Yoroi. His chakra, vibrant and excited, spiraled around him in little eddies of energy. Whatever had happened, it had to be pretty big.

"I did it," he said, voice tinged with awe. It took me a while to figure out what he meant, but when I did I nearly dropped the teapot. "I _passed_," he continued, in that same exultant tone. "I'm a chuunin now!"

.

_._

.

* * *

**A/N:**

Overuse of adverbs seems to be a bad habit of mine; I tend to spam those things like crazy. Right now I'm trying to tone it down a bit, but I'm not sure how successful I've been so far. If adverbs are obnoxious to you, then I apologize. I'm doing my best.

Also, concerning all those bits about plants and herbs: while I've done a fair bit of research, I'm in no way an expert on herbalism. So please take everything you read with a grain of salt.

Overall, I'm a bit iffy on this chapter. I mean, a lot of elements were introduced all at once...and then there was that random POV change at the beginning...hopefully it didn't come off as rushed or contrived. Thoughts?


	3. begonia

**A/N:**

Whoo, extra-long chapter. And about 40% longer, if my calculations are correct.

And this is old news, but hey, new layout! I don't know about you guys, but it's kind of growing on me. If nothing else, I did have fun drawing the picture.

Aaaand, another quick change in POV. This is becoming habit, hmm?

* * *

**Little Acorn**

.

-3-

begonia

_of a fanciful mind_

.

.

.

_My, but they do grow up quickly_, mused Akadou Ran as she ushered her daughter through the front doors of the academy. _Six years old and already aspiring to become a ninja. Never would have thought._

It was indeed hard to believe. The moment Miyo was diagnosed with blindness, her ninja career had been considered over before it even began. Not to say, of course, that a blind ninja was an impossibility—on the contrary, Ran knew several ninja who, despite similar ailments, had successful careers.

Still, no matter how you looked at it, blindness was a disadvantage. A disability. To overcome it would require stubbornness, determination, and a very, _very _strong will.

Miyo had none of these.

The girl was clever, yes, but even cleverness could only get you so far. She was too yielding, too quick to please, too weak-willed, too _nice_. Toss her in a world where everyone raced to come out on top, and she'd be trampled without mercy.

Or at least, that's what Ran had thought.

That day on Miyo's fifth birthday, when her daughter had asked—no, demanded—to be a ninja...that day had proven her wrong. It was the first time Miyo had ever seemed to _want_ something so badly. The first time she had such fire in her eyes.

Ran liked to think of herself as tough. At nearly forty years of age, she had survived two shinobi world wars, outlived all of her genin teammates, even seen her husband _die_. But when her daughter had asked her like that, looking so _alive _for the first time in five years...

She had found herself unable to say no.

"Can I help you, miss?" someone asked, breaking Ran out of her long-winded thoughts. A lone chuunin was sitting at the registration table, one eyebrow raised. Ran blinked and realized that she'd been standing there for a long time.

"Ah, yes," Ran said, recovering quickly. She gestured towards Miyo, who was clinging to her leg like a particularly determined barnacle. "This is my daughter, Akadou Miyo. She'll be starting the academy this year."

"Akadou Miyo," the chuunin muttered, flipping through the notes on his clipboard. "Let's see...ah, here we go. Room 112, Funeno Daikoku. Down the hall, make a right."

"Thank you," said Ran.

"There's an initiation ceremony at noon," the chuunin added. "Don't forget to attend."

Ran smiled. "We'll be sure to remember. Now let's go, Miyo-chan."

.

.

.

The Hokage was saying something, I think.

"_...for the Will of Fire within..._"

Yes, he was definitely saying something.

"_...look forward to seeing how this new generation..._"

I wasn't really paying attention, though. Not to his words, not when his chakra was so much more_ interesting_.

"..._and throughout everything, begin to..._"

It was weird. Veiled, somehow. Like smelling flowers through a sheet of plastic wrap, or handling a prickly plant with thick gloves. And yet, despite its muted quality, it retained a sort of...

"_...no greater test of character..._"

A sort of _character_.

"Everyone, congratulations on entering," said the Hokage, his voice suddenly much warmer. Something had changed; it was enough to startle me back into attention. The barrier had slipped, his chakra was spilling out. The warmth was spreading now, and it was so open and clear that I could finally grasp that elusive sense of _character_.

Pensive, deliberate, vast, unfathomable. Like the slow-moving chakra of the oaks that sometimes lined Konoha's streets, but more powerful.

I found that it moved me. Moved us all, each one of us, even as we stood in our rigid, militant rows.

"From this day forth," the Hokage concluded, "please work hard to follow the shinobi way."

I grinned and couldn't help but stand a little straighter. All around me, I felt my soon-to-be classmates do the same.

Strange, how a bit of public speaking could be so inspiring.

.

.

.

_Public speaking_, I thought, _really, really sucks_.

I could _feel_ it—the class's entire attention was focused on me, solely on _me_—and it was _suffocating _and my hands were trembling and my legs felt like wet clay and I was taking out the nervousness on my fingers which were no doubt twisting into odd, _odd_ shapes and oh _yes_, did I mention how horribly _horrible_ public speaking was?

"Your name, child," Daikoku-sensei said for the umpteenth time. He sounded strained.

"Aka—A, Akadou-mi-yo..." I mumbled, voice getting progressively softer.

"Akadou Miyo," he repeated, relief coloring his tone. "Okay then, Miyo-chan, why don't you tell us about yourself?"

I opened my mouth but nothing came out save for a strangled squeak. One of my classmates tittered and I snapped my mouth shut, embarrassed.

"Any hobbies? Likes, dislikes, dreams for the future?"

My mouth remained stubbornly shut.

"...Anything?"

Silence.

Daikoku-sensei sighed. "I guess that'll have to do," he said, before moving on to the next student. The class's unnerving attention shifted away, the weight of their scrutiny lifted, and I could finally _breathe_ again.

"Are you okay?" asked the kid next to me when I slumped back into my seat.

"I'm fine," I said, before slamming my head down on the desk and pretending as hard as I could that I didn't exist.

.

.

.

To my classmates' delight, Daikoku-sensei let us have a quick break after introductions. The entire class burst into a flurry of motion as they hurried toward the door. I followed them, but at a slower pace; all the excitement and chatter was a bit disorienting, and I didn't want to trip over anything.

Besides, I'd had enough embarrassment for one day.

"Oh, hey!" someone said when I stepped outside into the warm sunshine. I tilted my head, recognizing the voice. It was the same boy (or girl, I couldn't tell) who'd asked if I was alright after my disastrous introduction.

"Uh...Miyo, right?"

Oh, he was talking to me.

I knew that.

"Yes," I said, a bit wary. Almost unconsciously, I began to tug at my fingers.

"We're gonna play ninja," he (she?) continued, and it was then that I noticed the six or so chakra signatures that were huddled behind him. "You want to join?"

My fingers paused as I considered the invitation. Because of my condition, I spent most of my time at home. My closest friends were the stuffed animals in my bedroom and the plants in the garden. It wasn't _lonely_—not really—it's just that I'd never played with other children before. The idea of it was completely _alien_...and yet at the same time, strangely tantalizing.

"Okay," I finally said.

As the circle of children shuffled to make space for me—to _include _me—something inside me felt inexplicably warm.

"Right," said the boy-girl. "So you know how to play, right?"

I nodded.

"Let's start, then—_ow_!"

There was an awkward silence, and I wondered if I did something wrong.

"Why did you slap my hand?" the boy-girl asked slowly.

I cocked my head. "Isn't that how you play ninja?"

An incredulous pause. "Course not. You're so _weird_. Here, this is how you play—"

And he or she proceeded to explain the rules. I tried to pay attention, but was again distracted by ponderings of his/her ambiguous gender. Mom had once told me that chakra systems were different for boys and girls, but my chakra sense wasn't refined enough to detect that discrepancy. Which left me dependent on recognition through voice, but at this age everyone sounded so androgynous...

"Hey, are you listening?"

I blinked and offered a sheepish grin in response. "Um..."

"Oh, let's just _play_ already," someone said, evidently tired of waiting.

"Yeah," another kid agreed. "Come on, Tenten, who cares about the rules? We can just make them up as we go along."

The name caught my attention. Tenten. Heaven, heavenly? Or little by little. Was that a masculine name or a feminine name?

Tenten sighed, interrupting my internal dilemma. "Oh, alright."

And suddenly, I didn't have time to ponder anymore as we were swept up in a large, confusing game of ninja. The game was a mess; I had no idea what was going on half the time. We'd split into two teams, I think—Konoha-nin and enemy-nin—but anything beyond that was anyone's guess. All I knew was that there was a great deal of running and shouting and morphing of rules, and I tripped over my own feet several times.

Still, it was the most fun I'd ever had.

.

.

.

It was afternoon when school ended. Children of all ages filtered out to the front of the Academy, some walking home, some waiting for parents to pick them up.

All in all, it wasn't a bad first day, aside from the whole introductions thing. I'd met the Hokage, I was learning to be a ninja, I had _friends_—and wasn't that last bit just mind-boggling?

Even so, there was one last thing that still bothered me.

"Over here, Dad," Tenten was yelling. I frowned. Tenten's father had already arrived; it was now or never.

"Tenten," I began, wondering how to phrase the question.

"Eh?"

"I was wondering..." I paused, then decided to be blunt. "Are you a girl or a boy?"

"_What_?"

"Because I can't really tell," I said, by way of explanation.

"I'm a _girl_!" Tenten sounded offended, which puzzled me. Did she not like being a girl?

"That's okay, I'm a girl, too," I tried to say, but she had already flounced off to her father.

Okay, that was strange. Was mentioning people's gender considered a social taboo? Or was it just a six-year-old thing? Well, whatever it was, I was probably going to have to do some research.

_I'll ask Mom_, I decided. _Mom knows everything_.

.

.

.

There was surprisingly little reading to be done at the Academy. While we did have a textbook, first year Academy students didn't use it very often. Most of the material was covered through Daikoku-sensei's lectures, a fact for which I was grateful, as I didn't much like to read. Still, there were moments when it was necessary.

Such as now. Daikoku-sensei was absent today—ill, or something—and the substitute teacher (our TA) had ordered us to get out our textbooks and read the first chapter.

_Time to read, then._

I flipped to the first page, took a deep breath and reached inwards. Just like how Mom taught me.

_Focus._

Inhale, exhale. Contract, relax. A few moments of nothing but the rhythm of breathing.

_Focus._

And then, _clarity. _Amazing clarity. Everyone's chakra had flared to life, shifting with every breath they took, every emotion or thought that swam through their minds. Among them, Tenten's was a comforting presence—all warm and cheerful and inquisitive, like a flitting sparrow—

_Focus_.

Concentrate, _concentrate_; gather and ferry the warmth; channel it down, down, down all the way to the fingertips; _carefully_, now—

_Focus._

A slight tingle as the the pads of my fingers became hypersensitive; I could now feel the subtle fluctuations in heat, the tiny vibrations, each _whoosh_ of lazily drifting air—

I touched my fingers to the page and began to read.

The areas with ink were smooth; areas with no ink was rougher, more textured. It was easy to tell the difference now that chakra was gathered in my fingertips, a process I was familiar with but still didn't really understand. ("It heightens your sensory nerves," Mom explained. I didn't know what sensory nerves were, but I smiled and nodded anyway; I mean, if it was important I'd find out later, right?)

It was in this manner that I managed to decipher the first sentence:

_Chakra is a basic form of energy that, to some extent, can be found within all living things._

Well, that wasn't too bad. I moved on.

_It consists of a combination of physical and spiritual energy, and is considered one of the most widespread and fundamental tool a ninja will ever utilize…_

Reading was a painfully slow process, but Mom assured me that it would get better with time. I certainly hoped so; as of now it was rather tedious. I struggled on.

_Physical energy is the energy contained within the cells in your body that actively sustains life. Since it is, as the name suggests, purely physical, this particular kind of energy can be bolstered through exercise and training; however, temporary enhancement through the use of stimulants is possible, if not potentially hazardous. (See Fig. 1.3.) Among other specific characteristics, physical energy constitutes an essential portion of Yang chakra; conversely, Yin chakra is composed almost entirely of the spiritual energy that governs the mind and soul. Keep in mind that this definition only touches upon the basics of chakra theory; both Yin and Yang chakra will be covered much more thoroughly in Chapter 4…_

Yes, reading was tedious. And it didn't help that the passage was so twisty and convoluted—oftentimes I would read one sentence, wonder what the heck I just read, and then have to reread it for clarification. It was beyond frustrating, and judging from the mood of my classmates, I wasn't the only one who felt this way.

"Psst. Miyo?"

Tenten. Was she done already? That was…really fast.

"You're done?" I said, incredulous.

"Huh? Oh, the reading. It wasn't too bad. Are you done, too? Whatcha doing?" She said this all very fast. Like a hummingbird, darting from subject to subject.

''Um, I'm still reading." Or, I was. The instant my focus wavered, the tingling warmth had retreated and the clarity had vanished.

"But you're not even looking at the book," she insisted, and I could feel her curiosity rising. "And you're…rubbing the page."

Slow blink. Confusion. Then the realization—

_Oh, right. She doesn't know_.

I faltered. Unsure of what to say.

Before starting at the Academy, Mom had constantly warned me not to advertise my blindness once in school. She worried about people who_ "wouldn't understand"_ or people who would "_take advantage"_ of my condition. Valid concerns, yes, but after five "How To Deal With Bullies" lectures it started to get redundant. Eventually I became a little peeved with her nagging, and had, with all the authority I could muster, informed her that I was already six years old and could_ take care of myself thank you very much_.

Now that I was confronting the problem, however, doubts began to gnaw at me. If I told her, would Tenten think I was too weird to hang around with anymore? Would she laugh at me, or tell me I was stupid and foolish? What if—what if she didn't want to be friends anymore?

Tenten poked my arm, startling me out of my frantic thoughts. "Hey, are you still in there?"

"Oh—um—what?"

"You zoned out," she said, matter-of-fact, and I realized that I had. Students up and down the rows were beginning to chatter softly, as more and more people finished the reading assignment.

"Oh." I hesitated for a few seconds, rubbing my fingers, before blurting, "It's how I read."

There was a short pause. Then: "Huh?"

"I'm blind," I said, and then suppressed a flinch at how blunt it sounded.

_Way to break it softly._

"You're blind," Tenten said slowly. I imagined she was frowning. "You…can't see?"

"No." I held my breath, waiting for her verdict. My fingers pinched together; the ambient chattering was getting louder.

And then finally—

"That's kind of cool," Tenten said, just as I opened my mouth to defend myself.

…_Wait, what_?

"Um, ah?" I said intelligently.

Tenten seemed unfazed by my inability to speak coherently. "Like, you read with your hands, right? That's cool. Really cool." She poked my arm again.

"Thanks," I managed at last.

In all the time I'd known her (though not long, admittedly) Tenten had always called me _weird_, or _funny_, or some other variant…in the most good-natured, non-derogative way possible, of course, but still.

I've been weird, I've been funny, I've been strange.

But I've never been _cool_ before.

It was…a nice feeling.

Tenten poked my arm a third time ("You're spacing again…") and this time, I grinned and poked her back. Naturally, it degenerated into an intense poking war of epic proportions.

All the while, the reading assignment sat on the table, forgotten.

.

.

.

Every few days we would have taijutsu practice. It was mostly stretches and physical conditioning at first, and then we moved on to basic kata. I wasn't good at taijutsu at all; my body was weak from years spent cooped up indoors, and it was a struggle just to keep up with everyone else.

Some people, though, reveled in the physical exercise.

I was paired up with such a person one day, when our teacher had us doing exercises with partners. And I think I can safely say that it was the most _bizarre_ experience I've ever had.

Oh, it was all pretty normal at first. But then the boy had walked up to me and said—

"Hello, I am Rock Lee! What is your name?"

—and the world stopped making sense.

_Jumpsuits and glinting teeth and strange poses and sunsets and FLAMES of YOUTH_—

"Kami," I said, with an odd sense of fascinated horror.

"It is nice to meet you, Kami," Rock Lee was saying, but the voice seemed far away—

—_rivals, and ridiculous promises and ridiculous self-imposed rules, carrying ridiculously large rocks like some strange, green, ridiculous mutant turtle_—

I was going crazy—I was going _crazy_, heaven have mercy—and what the heck was _green_, anyway—

—_bowl cuts and springtimes and hugging and oh god those eyebrows_—

"Eyebrows!" I burst out, panicked. "You!—The sunset—and, and, the turtle—youth—eyebrows!"

In the silence that followed, I realized that I did not sound very sane.

"Are you okay, Kami?" Rock Lee asked. Vaguely, I wondered why he was calling me that.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I said distractedly, still completely weirded out. What kind of freaky imagination did I have, to come up with something like _that_? Jumpsuits and bowl cuts? What the _heck_?

_No, no; need to stop thinking about it—_

"Let's just start the eyebrows, forget about the exercise," I said, and then mentally smacked myself. "I mean, forget about the eyebrows. Start the exercise."

So we started the exercises, and my partner was more enthusiastic about physical training than anyone had any right to be. But it did keep my mind off of mutant turtles and youthful eyebrows, so I was grateful.

By the end of taijutsu practice, Rock Lee seemed to have forgotten about the entire thing.

It was a while before he stopped calling me Kami, though.

.

.

.

We focused on a vast range of topics at the Academy: chakra and ninjutsu theory, history, anatomy, mathematics and physics, government and law, health and first aid, geography, tactics and strategy, weaponry care. Quizzes and tests were a frequent occurrence. They were simple at first, but as the weeks passed the material became more challenging, and I began to falter. Studying was hard for me; I was slow at both reading and writing, and as a result note-taking was difficult and inefficient. Sometimes I considered asking Mom or Yoroi to help, but they were busy enough as it was, and I didn't like the idea of bothering them with my problems.

When my grades began to dip, Daikoku-sensei pulled me over one day and gave me a recording device to use during lectures. I had not liked my sensei very much at first, as he tended to play favorites (Uchiha Hiroshi and Hyuuga Neji in particular were often subject to vehement praise) but after using the recorder a few times, my grades rose again, and I decided that maybe Daikoku-sensei wasn't so bad after all.

The days at the Academy passed swiftly, and I soon settled into a routine. Morning, wake up, freshen up, breakfast, go to Academy. Taijutsu in the morning if it was a taijutsu day; if not, then lecturing. Break time and lunch outside with Tenten and a group of others. Then, more lectures. Sometimes a test or a quiz. Go home, homework, study, dinner. Tend to the garden if I have free time, or play on my flute.

Sometimes, on weekends, Tenten would invite me over to her house. I was nervous at first, but her parents were very kind and I eventually relaxed and started visiting more often. Plus, her mother cooked amazing food. (It was almost nostalgic, for some reason, but that was strange because I've never eaten that kind of food before.)

Soon I began inviting Tenten to _my_ home. It was easy getting permission; Mom was delighted I'd made a friend and wanted to meet her. When Tenten first came over, I showed her the garden, and our herb collection, and even my bamboo flute.

And—not that I was lonely before—of course I wasn't—but it was _nice_, having someone to share everything with. I imagined that this was what having a best friend was like.

After a while, Mom finally became confident enough in my abilities to let me outside on my own. The newfound freedom was almost scary at first, but I quickly became used to it. Most often I would simply go to the nearest meadows and hills to gather herbs and flowers. There was always a large variety to choose from; the nice thing about Konoha was that its mild climate permitted the growth of many species of plants.

Sometimes, a kunoichi class would wander in while I gathered plants. (I myself did not sign up for the class; I was not interested in what it had to offer, and studying for the regular classes was tiring enough without having to worry about a supplemental one.) The class—headed by a lady named Suzume, I think—would scatter through the trees and hills, and pick flowers for ikebana. It was a bit uncomfortable with so many people around, but generally, I didn't bother them and they didn't bother me.

And it wasn't like they came here a lot. Even when they did come they usually stuck to the open hills, so I was free to plod alongside the small creek that trailed its way through the groves of trees.

It was as I plodded along said creek one day, minding my own business and hunting for meadow-rue, that I met Shiho.

.

_._

.

* * *

**A/N:**

Clarification:

_Kami_ roughly translates to "god." _Ikebana_ is the Japanese art of flower arrangement. A _k__unoichi _is a female ninja.

Random observation:

It seems that the addition of Rock Lee has instantly made this chapter 60% more ridiculous.

Concerning reviews:

Okay, so I know I haven't personally replied to every review, but I want you all to know that I _do_ appreciate the input. It means a ton that you would take the time to reply to my queries, and offer advice/encouragement/opinions. You're all lovely people, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart! May a thousand cookies rain upon your heads!

[**Spoiler alert **ahead for those who don't follow the manga.]

A few reviewers have mentioned Kabuto. In truth, I'd been pondering this myself. According to the wikia (which takes reference from the databooks, I think?), he graduated from the Academy at 10. But given the latest chapters of the manga (aka Kabuto's Freudian Excuse Arc), it doesn't make much sense to me. Kabuto only becomes an official genin after Oro comes along and, um, have you seen chapter 584? That's no ten-year-old, no sirree. Then again, maybe I'm looking too much into this. It could very well be part of the fake cover Orochimaru gave him. Or something. Who knows.

As for current relations with his genin team, well. Kabuto is only 19 when Yoroi is 23; as of now, Yoroi's only about 16. Meaning Kabuto's 12, his adoptive mother's still alive, and he's probably off infiltrating Kiri or Suna or something as per Danzo's orders. As such, I highly doubt he's had any contact with Yoroi or Misumi at this point.


	4. marigold

**A/N:**

Bleh. I swear these chapters are getting longer and longer. This one in particular was really hard to write, for some reason. As such, I apologize if it seems choppier than usual.

And Shiho's a canon character, by the way. I'm just…expanding. A lot.

NobodyInParticlr: Yes, Yoroi's the guy who fights Sasuke in the exams. And yes, the story changed because of Miyo's presence. I imagine that suddenly having a sibling would have a rather large impact on, well, anyone's life. And I've hinted, sort of, at a few factors—Yoroi's increased dedication as a child, his sister's encouragement, and the present she gives him for the exams. (Exams which he won't be taking it again, since he passed.) So did that clear things up? :)

* * *

**Little Acorn**

.

-4-

marigold

_jealousy_

.

.

.

Shiho had never liked mirrors. Or more precisely, not the mirrors themselves but what they reflected back at her.

Then one day she'd decided to start wearing glasses—the ridiculous, swirled, opaque kind that no one in their right mind would wear—and mirrors suddenly became a lot more bearable. Not that the messy-haired freak that would stare back at her from the glass was much of an improvement, but whatever. At least this way, she could pretend to be semi-normal, right?

It had been, in retrospect, a stupid thought. Because how on earth could a swirly four-eyes with bird-nest hair ever be considered even halfway normal?

Normal people didn't wear ringed glasses when their vision was perfectly fine. Normal people didn't have a phobia of mirrors. Normal people didn't attract bullies like bees to nectar.

…Sort of like what was happening now, actually. What with the four girls stalking towards her with identical sneers on their faces and all.

Shiho wasn't exactly sure who they were, or what their names were (which was kind of sad considering they were in the same class as her), but she recognized the hostile expressions and began to slowly back up along the bank of the stream.

"Teacher's pet," Girl #1 said, oozing out the words like a slug oozed slime. "You think you're better than us, don't you?"

Shiho took a step back and silently disagreed. No, no she didn't.

"You're a freak. Just a freak."

This time she silently agreed. She was, yes she _was_. But they didn't have to rub it in.

"Freaky little bug-eyes," Girl #2 added. "What's with the glasses anyways?"

Girl #3 didn't say anything, just stepped up and swiped at Shiho's face—and Shiho, taken by surprise, let the glasses fall, fall, fall into the creek where the water carried it further and further away—

"Oh wow, you _are_ a freak," Girl #1 said, eyes wide.

Shiho stared back at Girl #1's surprised brown eyes, at those _perfectly_ _normal_ brown eyes, and tried hard not to cry.

"No wonder she wears glasses all the time, she looks like a vampire," Girl #3 whispered to Girl #4, who snickered.

Girl #2 was grinning. "Wait 'til we tell the others. They'll _love_ this."

She grabbed two of her companion's hands—Girls #3 and 4—and began to scurry away. Girl #1 paused long enough to level Shiho a smug grin before leaving as well. All four were gone within seconds, and the clearing was quiet save for rustling trees and gurgling stream.

For about a minute, Shiho just stood there. Then she shuffled over to the creek and began scanning the water for her glasses.

The current must have carried them down further than she'd originally thought, because her glasses were nowhere in sight. For a brief moment she wondered what she'd do if they were lost forever. But no, she'd find them, because they just _couldn't_ be lost, she _needed_ those glasses, they _protected_ her, and _oh what was she going to do_—

"Um, I think these are yours?"

Shiho whipped around so fast she almost went flying into the creek.

Standing there was a small girl she didn't recognize, drenched in water and looking more than a little lost. With the single water reed sticking out from her hair, and the algae plastered all over her clothes, she resembled an exotic species of alien.

For a moment Shiho could do nothing but stare. Then she noticed the pair of circular glasses in the girl's hands.

"Oh—yes," she said, relieved.

The girl gave her a strange, vacant sort of smile and handed her the glasses, which were unfortunately also covered in algae.

"Thank you…" Shiho trailed off meaningfully, waiting for the girl to introduce herself.

The social cue seemed to fly right over the girl's head, because instead of her name, she said, "I'm sorry about your glasses."

"It's not your fault," Shiho said, automatically.

The girl fidgeted with her fingers for a long while. "They were really mean," she said, sounding awkward. "Making fun of your eyesight like that."

_Normal eyes, perfectly normal brown, not like hers_—

Shiho shuffled her feet and smoothed down her shirt. "It wasn't really my eyesight they were making fun of, to be honest."

The girl tilted her head. "Then…what?"

"…You can't tell?"

"Um, no?"

Shiho glanced down at the running water. In the patches of water that were clear of green muck, she could see her reflection, almost like a mirror—

—_red, red eyes_—

She quickly looked back up, jamming her glasses on as she did so. Algae and all.

"I'm ugly," she said. "Didn't you hear them? I look like a _vampire_."

The girl blinked slowly. "Do you sparkle?"

"I—what?" Shiho stopped, bewildered by the non-sequitur.

"Do you sparkle?"

"No," she said, wondering why she was even answering the question. "No, I don't sparkle."

"Then you're not a vampire," the girl said, with an air of finality.

Shiho had no idea how to respond to that so she just nodded.

An awkward silence soon descended, in which there was a lot of staring and twitching and fidgeting.

"I...should probably get going," Shiho said, when the awkwardness level had reached danger zones. "I still have to get the flowers for my ikebana project."

(It was true; she hadn't even started yet. Suzume-sensei wasn't going to be very pleased at all.)

"I can help," the girl offered, before looking uncertain. "Um, if you want me to. That is. It's okay if—it's okay if you don't. Do you?"

Shiho stared at the algae-covered alien girl and knew that if she accepted, she would never be considered normal again. Ever. For the rest of her life and eternity.

"Sure," she said.

.

.

.

Bullying. It was a phenomenon I knew existed, but had never personally witnessed.

Until now, that is.

I wish I could say I'd charged into the clearing the instant I figured out what was going on—charged in blazing with righteous fury like how the heroes in the stories always did. I wish I could say I was brave and did the right thing, that I had the guts to climb out from behind the trees and _defend_ _that poor girl_.

I didn't.

And so for the entire time I hid behind my tree like a frightened rabbit.

When I heard that tell-tale _thunk-splash_ of an object dropping into water, it was almost a relief. It gave me something I could _do_, no matter how small it was.

After a short but successful expedition in the creek, a meeting with the glasses-girl, and a rather awkward conversation about vampires and ikebana, I dragged said glasses-girl off to a more secluded area. Several chakra signatures were approaching us and I didn't want to face a crowd of bullies, after all.

Later, as we sat on the hillside picking daisies and poppies and meadow-rue, the glasses-girl said, "I didn't get a chance to ask earlier, but what's your name?"

"Akadou Miyo," I said, tucking a few blooms into the pouch I carried.

"I'm Yuuhi Shiho. Thanks for earlier, by the way…"

"It was nothing." Which was true. It really was nothing compared to what I _could_ have done—to what I _should_ have done.

As we continued to collect flowers, I showed Shiho where she could find the best, healthiest blooms. She, in turn, fed me plenty of information about flowers that, surprisingly, I didn't know.

Shiho, as it turned out, knew a lot about plants. Not the medicinal uses, like how Mom and I knew them, but little bits of miscellaneous information that I found interesting. She was like an encyclopedia. It was pretty amazing.

"Did you know," Shiho said, while I harvested a patch of poppies, "that poppies symbolize remembrance?"

"Remembrance for what?" I asked, curious.

"Frankly? For people who've died. Poppies are some of the first flowers to grow after a big war, you see. Some people even say that the reason why they're so red is from all the blood spilled from the fighting."

Okay, so sometimes her trivia was kind of morbid. Although to be fair, we lived in a ninja society, so I probably should have gotten used to things like this by now.

"Poppy seeds can help you sleep," I offered instead of commenting. Briefly, I wondered what _red_ meant, but decided that if it had connotations to blood and war then I probably didn't want to know.

"Really? That's interesting. Actually, that reminds me, I think there was an old story about a lady who gets bewitched and turns into a poppy and…"

I listened as Shiho chattered on and on, and wondered how often she got to talk to people like this. How often she found anyone who'd actually sit and listen, and not laugh and call her a vampire.

My finger trailed along the stem of a drooping daisy.

It made me a little sad.

.

.

.

Shiho wasn't in my class.

I knew this because I got to school early this morning and examined everyone's chakra signature as they entered the classroom. None of them matched, leaving me disappointed and feeling vaguely like a stalker.

But even if she wasn't in my class, I knew she'd be floating around somewhere during lunch, because everyone was let out during lunch. So after following Tenten and the others outside, I made a quick detour.

"Do you want to join us?" I asked, when I found Shiho sitting alone by the far wall. "For lunch, I mean. Um, if you want. You don't have to, just—but if you want. Uh, yeah."

_Oh wow, very eloquent._

I was in the middle of mentally smacking myself when Shiho saved me and said, "Sure."

.

.

.

_Ready._

I grasped the handle of my kunai and concentrated.

_Aim._

The target was an inanimate object—void of chakra, a circular _hole_ in space, a flat piece of _nothing_. With a bit of focus, I could pinpoint its location.

_Fire._

A quick swipe of my arm, and the kunai was airborne.

Whistle—

_Clang!_

Uh-oh. That wasn't the right sound—if it had landed on the wooden target it should have made a solid _thud_. It must have bounced off the metal frame, which meant…

"Miss," said Daikoku-sensei, sounding tired. "That makes the score two out of ten."

I wilted. Two out of ten was…bad. Really bad.

"Next, Tenten," Daikoku-sensei said as I trudged off to retrieve the scattered kunai.

"Good luck," I said to Tenten when I got back.

"Thanks," she said, and then began hurling kunai.

_Whistle-thud-whistle-thud-whistle-thud_—

"Wow," I said quietly.

She was done within fifteen seconds.

Fifteen seconds.

It had taken me almost a minute, and I'd only hit two of the targets.

"Looks like it's ten out of ten for Tenten," Daikoku-sensei said, his tone jovial. It was a sharp contrast to how he talked to me.

For some reason, that thought bothered me.

Strange.

"Miyo! Did you see that?" Tenten's voice cut through my thoughts. It was all excitement and giddiness and delight, and I couldn't help but smile.

"That was amazing," I said, and I meant it.

.

.

.

Tenten turned out to be some kind of genius with kunai throwing.

I, conversely, was a bit of a…not-genius.

Meaning that I sucked.

_Clang!_

I winced at the noise. Another miss, then.

"You'll get it," Tenten encouraged, handing me another kunai. I hurled it at the target and promptly missed. Again.

"Here." Tenten offered me yet another kunai. "Try throwing it a bit more to the left."

More to the left? I hesitated, then flung the kunai—shifting my aim just a bit—and was awarded with a solid _thud_.

Tenten's chakra flared up in excitement. "Oh, way to go!"

I smiled, but it was a bit brittle. Her enthusiasm on my behalf was touching, it truly was—but I couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed that I couldn't figure it out on my own.

We continued training in Tenten's backyard (I was too self-conscious to use the training field at the Academy, and my own backyard had been off-limits ever since the Tomato Fiasco) for a long while, occasionally switching off on who threw the kunai and who observed.

Not that I had much to say about Tenten's technique, when it was her turn. She was perfect.

Okay, not _perfect_, exactly—but while she _did_ make mistakes now and then, it was very, very rare. Not to mention that she was fast, and progressed quickly as well.

Me, though? I flailed and struggled and trailed along at a snail's pace.

_Frustrating._

It was just…a difference in talent, I supposed. Although eyesight probably wouldn't have hurt.

"Bullseye!" Tenten crowed.

"Great job!" I said, mustering up a smile and pushing down a small twinge of bitterness. It wasn't Tenten's fault I was so talentless; she didn't deserve such petty resentment.

Granted, after her twenty-third bullseye (not that I was counting, or anything) I began to feel a bit discouraged. Tenten might have sensed this, because she abruptly stopped training and dragged me into the house for refreshments. Tired and grateful for the intervention, I didn't complain. Besides, her mother made amazing tea.

"Don't worry," Tenten told me as we sat around her dining table with cups of tea. "I'm sure you'll get it soon."

"Thanks, Tenten," I said. The steam of the tea was warm and moist and nice-smelling. Relaxing, I leaned down closer towards the teacup, and enjoyed the warmth that bloomed across my face. _Jasmine_, my mind supplied.

"You just need practice," Tenten continued, and just like that, the discouraged feeling returned.

Yes, I needed practice. Just a whole lot more practice than she did.

_Difference in talent._

Something twisted in my stomach at the thought—something sharp and unpleasant—but it was small and easy to ignore.

So ignore it I did.

.

.

.

"The stupid leaf keeps falling off," Tenten said.

There was a rustling of clothes as she moved, presumably to retrieve her leaf. I didn't say anything in response, since I was a bit preoccupied with my own leaf, which was buzzing pleasantly on my forehead.

"No, really. That was like the bajillionth time."

I was pretty sure that "bajillion" wasn't a word but I doubted that Tenten would appreciate it if I voiced this thought.

"How do you _do_ that?"

And her tone was just so_ incredulous_ that I couldn't resist.

"By focusing and not talking," I said.

Naturally, my leaf chose that moment to fall off. To my left, I could hear Tenten unsuccessfully try to smother a laugh. I sent a glare in her general direction and then set about getting the leaf on my forehead again.

I had to reestablish control—it had snapped when I had started talking—and so after retrieving my leaf, I reached inwards again. As the world sharpened into that familiar _clarity_, I noticed something—some_one_—hovering at the edge of my senses.

Was that…Rock Lee?

…It _was_.

I scanned his position and frowned. What was he doing inside? Why wasn't he practicing chakra control out here, with everyone else?

I eased out of focus; the clarity dimmed; the leaf fluttered down into my hands. Turning to Tenten, I asked, "Why isn't Rock Lee here?"

"Rock Lee?" Tenten repeated. She sounded confused, which was understandable. Ever since the Eyebrow Incident, I'd been avoiding Lee like the plague. To suddenly ask about him was a bit…random.

"Yes," I confirmed.

Before Tenten could reply, someone else butted into the conversation.

"You mean you don't know?" said Uchiha Hiroshi, who seemed to be balancing the leaf and talking at the same time—a feat that I could not replicate.

I allowed myself a brief moment of envy before saying, "No, I don't."

"Gee, talk about clueless."

"Shut up, Uchiha," Tenten suggested, before addressing me. "Rock Lee isn't at our level yet. He was having trouble, and was slowing down the class and stuff, so Daikoku-sensei got him a tutor to teach him separately. It was a few weeks ago, but I guess you don't remember."

I frowned as I processed the information. "He's…not at our level? What do you mean?"

Surely he couldn't be _that_ far behind? We were still only at the "channeling chakra" stage; anything below that was meditation stuff. The "becoming aware of chakra" stuff.

"It means that his chakra control sucks," said Uchiha Hiroshi, who had evidently not taken Tenten's advice. "That he's got zero talent for ninjutsu or genjutsu. Kind of like how you are with taijutsu, actually."

"Shut _up_, Uchiha," Tenten snapped.

"It's the truth. Everyone knows how bad she is, even_ Lee_ can beat her in a spar—"

_I don't need to hear this._

In one abrupt movement, I stood up. "I need to use the bathroom," I said, maybe a bit louder than necessary.

As I headed indoors, almost stumbling in my hurry, two words kept replaying in my head.

_Zero. Talent._

.

.

.

We only really needed to learn how to handle kunai and shuriken to pass our exams, but Daikoku-sensei insisted that it was good to be exposed, at least a little bit, to the more obscure kinds of ninja weapons out there. That was why, near the end of my second year, he invited a weapons specialist over as a sort of guest presentation.

"My name is Tanaka Kenji," the weapons specialist said in a warm, friendly voice. He then proceeded to highlight various ways to kill people and the most efficient means of doing it.

When he finished his little presentation, he brought out about eighty different weapons and invited us to explore his arsenal. We all pressed forward with varying degrees of eagerness ranging from crazed euphoria (Tenten) to quiet reluctance (me).

In my examination of the weaponry laid out for us, I found that I didn't much care for senbon, or needles in general. They were thin and hard for me to detect, and when they flew through the air there was barely a whisper of sound. I didn't like the idea of not knowing where I'd thrown a weapon, or worse—not knowing if a weapon was coming at me.

Then there were the fukibari, which were tiny needles people could shoot from their mouths. Tanaka Kenji explained that they were good for taking the opponent by surprise, but I couldn't imagine ever using them; the idea of hiding _needles_ in my _mouth_ was kind of horrifying.

I did find a few of the weapons to be interesting, though.

The kakute, for one, was nice in that it was both easy to use and easy to hide. It was basically a spiked metal ring, worn on either the inside or outside of the hand. Oftentimes the tips would be smeared with poison for greater effect.

The fan was another interesting weapon, because of its versatility—the weapon was simultaneously a bludgeon, a shield, and a skewer. When closed, it was solid and thick and heavy; when open, it could fend off projectiles, and pierce things with its sharpened points.

"You like the tessen?" Tenten asked.

I paused in my inspection of the fan. "The what?"

"Tessen. Iron fan. The thing you're holding?"

Oh, so that's what it was called.

"If you like it, I can maybe get you one," said Tenten. "I'm sure Uncle has a couple extra, I could ask him—"

"It's okay," I said hastily. "I don't think I'd be very good with it, anyway." And I didn't really want any more favors from her, not when she'd already done so much.

Tenten, however, was unrelenting. "How would you know that? You haven't even tried yet."

I frowned. "I'm not good with weapons."

"_Projectile_ weapons," she corrected. "This is different."

"I'm…_not_ good with _weapons_. Any weapon."

"But you can get better, right?"

"I—"

"Don't be naive."

I blinked. For a second I thought it was Tenten speaking, but the voice was quieter. Steelier. I thought for a few seconds and then recognized it as Hyuuga Neji, the soft-spoken genius who sat at the back of the classroom.

"Excuse me?" said Tenten.

"One cannot just '_get better_," Neji said, emanating subtle disdain.

"Oh, yeah? And why not?" There was a challenge rising in her voice, and I tried not to wince; she could get pretty competitive.

Neji, though, seemed unfazed. "If she is so terribly untalented at handling weaponry, then any amount of practice is unlikely to change it."

Something inside me died a little, at that statement. Slowly, I put down the fan.

"That's ridiculous," Tenten said.

"It's the truth."

"Ridiculous and _stupid_."

"It is not."

"_You're_ stupid."

"And you're childish. People don't change—"

"I believe they do!" Rock Lee cut in, almost scaring me to death because _really_, where the heck did he come from?

"You are even worse," Neji informed Lee. "A ninja who cannot use ninjutsu. Why are you even here?"

"I have taijutsu," Lee insisted. "I can still be a ninja! And you are wrong; a person _can_ change!"

And then Neji began listing out every reason why Lee was wrong, and Tenten was countering every one of his statements with an acid remark, and Lee was punctuating the entire argument with dramatic declarations and exclamation marks.

And me? I was just standing there (and wondering how the tessen conversation had mutated into a heated philosophical debate about the human condition) when all of a sudden, I was hit with the most unsettling feeling.

An intense feeling of wrongness. Of perversion. Of…unbelonging.

If that was a word.

"What a jerk," Tenten seethed, as she grabbed my arm and led me away. "Come on, let's get away from—uh, you alright?"

At her concerned tone, I snapped out of my thoughts. "Um, yeah…it's just that…"

_It's just that, for a moment_—

"What's wrong?"

"I…never mind. It's nothing."

"If you say so," she said, sounding rather unconvinced. Then, in a lighter tone: "Let's go see some of the other stuff, huh?"

We continued to explore, but I couldn't concentrate. My mind kept straying back to that moment, to that unfinished thought.

_It's just that, for a moment, I had the strangest feeling…_

…_a heavy conviction that I __**wasn't supposed to be there**__._

.

.

.

After that, I stopped sitting with Tenten and the others during lunch. Instead, I hid under an old oak tree by the far wall, near Shiho's old spot.

I don't know why, but sitting with the others just didn't feel right anymore.

A few days passed, and then Shiho found me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

Shiho ignored me. I heard her moving, scraping aside fallen leaves. Then she plopped down to sit next to me.

"Shiho?"

"Hi," she said.

I stabbed a dumpling with my chopsticks. "What are you doing here?" I asked again.

"Sitting," she said, which totally wasn't what I meant.

"I mean, shouldn't you be with the others?"

"Why should I?"

"They're your friends, aren't they?"

There was a brief, contemplative silence and then she said:

"Well, you were my friend first."

At those words, something inside me swelled up, like a balloon. I poked at a dumpling, then tried to say something, but found that I couldn't—the balloon had somehow taken over my throat, so that it was all thick and closed up.

After a length of silence, Shiho spoke up again. "The oak tree represents strength and endurance."

Oh, I recognized this game.

"Oak bark can be used to treat fungal skin infections," I replied, forcing the words past the balloon in my throat. It came out sounding like a croak.

"Oak leaves symbolize rank and status."

"Oak leaf tea can help heal cuts and scrapes."

"An acorn is a symbol of good luck."

"Acorns can give you constipation."

Shiho giggled and I smiled a bit. From thereon, a tentative conversation began to pick up, and by the end of lunchtime we were laughing and talking like nothing was wrong.

.

.

.

"You're avoiding me."

Her voice was accusing, upset, hurt. I flinched but didn't say anything.

"You never sit with us anymore. You ignore me during class. And whenever I try to invite you over you're always _busy_." She took a deep breath. "Why are you avoiding me?"

I didn't respond. Partly because I wasn't entirely sure myself, and partly because "_it doesn't feel right_" was kind of a lame response.

"Is it because of the Neji thing? I don't think that stuff about you, honest I don't."

My hands twisted together as I tried to figure out what to say.

"Miyo?"

"It's hard to explain," I finally mumbled.

"…Why? Was it me? Did I do something wrong?"

Why, indeed? I lowered my head and thought about it, really _thought _about it. That one time Tanaka Kenji came over—why did I feel so unwelcome? Like a stranger? An intruder? It certainly wasn't anything Tenten did; she never did anything wrong. So that meant the problem was me.

Now that I look back, Tenten was always looking out for me. I suppose I was…a bit resentful, that I needed so much help. Maybe a little jealous, too, that she was so good at everything.

It made me feel disgusted with myself. She was my _friend_, and darn it, friends weren't supposed to be_ jealous _of each other, friends weren't supposed to be _resentful_. Friends helped each other. Supported each other. Grew up side by side.

But here we were, and it was all wrong. Tenten was the flower in the sun, and I was the intruder, the unwanted weed, the _parasite_ that fed off of her brilliance.

I was…a terrible friend.

"No," I said. "It wasn't you."

Tenten waited, probably for a more informative answer, but I refused to say anything else.

Finally, she sighed and left.

In the days that followed, Tenten would often try again to get me to talk, or offer invitations to come over to her house. I kept turning them down, though, and they lessened over time. Eventually, the attempts stopped altogether.

And, well…it was sad, but that was the way our friendship ended.

_Not with a bang but a whimper._

.

_._

.

* * *

**A/N:**

So I'm taking liberties with canon, again. What can I say? I like coming up with reasons for little things, and the pattern on Shiho's glasses reminded me of Kurenai's eyes. Hope it didn't seem too farfetched. If it did, then I apologize…although I doubt it will become a major plot point anyway.

As you can see, things aren't all rainbows and sunshine at the Academy. Bullying, inferiority, jealousy…et cetera, et cetera. Childhood isn't exactly a walk in the park, after all; it comes with its own nasty little set of dramas and worries. And even more so for ninja children.

As always, if you spot any errors please let me know. Many thanks for reading!


	5. cypress

**A/N:**

After the downer ending to that last chapter, I tried to make this one a bit happier…and utterly failed. Sorry about that. As you may have already surmised from the title, it will likely be rather depressing.

Also, quick heads up to those of you who don't follow the manga: there's a bit of a **spoiler** in this chapter.

Anemos:

Thank you for the thoughtful and in-depth review! Yes, the titles are indeed inspired from the language of flowers, among other things. I wanted something to go along with the theme, y'know? And so far the whole story's been full of plant motifs.

Now that you mention it, I do see a bit of a resemblance between Shiho and Fuu. (Although personally I think Shiho's hair is a bit more on the blonde side than green.) As for her relation to Kurenai, well. They aren't very closely related. Cousins, maybe, at the closest.

* * *

**Little Acorn**

.

-5-

cypress

_death_

.

.

.

Death was a frequent visitor in the lives of ninja. As a medic who worked at a hospital, Akadou Ran was rather well-acquainted with this concept. They lost patients all the time in her line of work, after all, and getting worked up over every death would have driven her insane. She didn't exactly like it, but had inevitably learned to deal with it.

Besides, Ran had lived through multiple wars as well as a Bijuu attack. She was familiar with death and its horrors.

The Uchiha massacre, however, was a special brand of horrifying.

She supposed that part of the reason was how _senseless_ it was. Children and adults—ninja and civilians alike—all slaughtered without discrimination. Systematic, dispassionate, merciless. Like a machine.

Even worse was the identity of the murderer.

_Uchiha Itachi_.

She didn't believe it at first, when she heard the news. Not him, not Itachi. Not that nice, quiet boy whose arm she once helped patch up after a mission. She remembered that incident very clearly—he had apologized for the inconvenience, and thanked her for her help, and she remembered feeling charmed by his solemn politeness, remembered thinking _what a nice young man_—and then—

And then he went insane and killed his family.

It was just so _upsetting_.

Ran sighed and polished her glasses, feeling very tired as she walked down the hospital corridor. In light of recent events, she'd been transferred to the autopsy unit. It was grim, exhausting work, but since they were running low on personnel she didn't complain.

(Still, she much preferred working in the greenhouse, under the pharmacy division. It was certainly less depressing, and there weren't so many _bodies_.)

Ran turned the corner, still absently polishing her glasses, when her nearsighted vision caught a flash of gray—and the next thing she knew something had collided into her and the glasses had flown out of her hands.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said the gray blur, his voice apologetic. "Here, allow me."

He bent down and retrieved the glasses, then handed them over. Ran smiled her thanks and put the eyeglasses back on; the blur sharpened into the form of a boy with gray hair and a self-deprecating smile.

"Thank you," Ran said. "I apologize, I should have been paying more attention—I do tend to drift off sometimes, you'll have to forgive me."

"No, it was my fault," the boy said, still smiling. "I couldn't blame you; you weren't wearing your glasses, after all."

"I suppose I wasn't," Ran said agreeably. She studied the boy, noting the hospital uniform he wore and the clipboard under his arm. "Are you new here? I've never seen you before."

The boy nodded, dipping his head. "Yakushi Kabuto, trainee. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

_Yakushi Kabuto…Yakushi…_

…_Yakushi?_

Ran blinked and studied the boy more closely. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see a bit of a resemblance in the shape of his face, the friendly smile, the unassuming demeanor. Even the glasses were exactly the same.

"Likewise, Kabuto-kun," she said. "Tell me, would you happen to be related to Yakushi Nonou?"

Kabuto appeared taken aback for a moment. "…Yes, in fact. Yes. Did…do you know her?"

"I served under her before she retired." Ran smiled, then added, "She is a good friend of mine."

The trainee nodded, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"How is she? Is she doing well?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. I haven't seen her in a long time, you see." There was something strange in his voice.

"Oh, of course," said Ran, wondering at that. Perhaps they weren't close, or his relationship with her was strained? It was possible.

She studied the boy again, observing the tense grip on the clipboard clutched close to his chest, the slightly hunched back, the downturned head, the averted eyes. It was subtle, but there—a defensive posture. Defense against _what_, exactly, Ran was unsure of.

And then Kabuto drew himself up, perfectly relaxed, mild expression firmly back in place, and it was like the previously defensive-looking boy had never existed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's been a pleasure speaking with you, but I still have a lot of work to do."

"It's no problem," Ran assured him, to which he responded with a slight smile.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Kabuto left to continue his work, and Ran continued her way down the corridor, deep in thought.

Yakushi Kabuto really was such a nice young man. He was just like Nonou, so polite and unassuming—it reminded her a bit of Uchiha Itachi, actually, or at least the Itachi from before—

_The massacre_.

Her steps faltered as a wave of fatigue tumbled over her, and she suddenly remembered the reason why she was so very tired.

Ran rubbed her forehead wearily, and wondered for a moment what her old captain would have done in this situation.

Nonou, ex-captain of the Konoha Medic Corps, had always been calm—unflappable, really—and it was part of what made her such an admirable leader. Ran remembered how, in the old days, she'd always pay Nonou a visit whenever she was upset. A peaceful day of chatting and tea had never failed to cheer her up.

Ran massaged her temples again and sighed.

She could really, really use some cheering up at the moment.

_Perhaps I should visit her again_, she thought. She hadn't visited the orphanage in such a long time. Well, she'd _meant_ to, of course, but she'd been so _busy_—Miyo was born, and then there was the Kyuubi attack, and now this massacre—and before she knew it nine years had passed.

Nine years, without dropping by even once.

It made her feel a bit guilty.

_I'll visit her_, she promised herself as she left the hospital. _After all this is over,_ _I'll visit her_.

.

.

.

It was too sudden.

There were nightmares, that night—_mass of heat gone cold, too cold, ice cold, couldn't breathe; voices falling silent, never answering, and I strained to listen, I had to hear but I couldn't; haunting melodies that cut off, ended much too soon, tried to remember but they left me alone in the dark and never ever came back_—it was terrible, fitful, broken sleep—it was the only warning I had, before crawling out of bed the next day and dragging myself to school and finding out—

He was gone and it was too sudden.

To be honest, I had never liked Uchiha Hiroshi. He was mean, and haughty, and rarely had anything nice to say to anybody, much less me. There were some days when I happily fantasized about punching him in the nose.

Only, I hadn't ever wanted for him to die.

Broken nose, yes.

But never _die_.

It was just…

Too_ sudden_.

.

.

.

It was around this time—shortly after the massacre—that I began to notice them.

The insects.

Blurry little pinpricks, tiny and warm. They were _everywhere_.

I didn't like them. Didn't like the way they'd glow with life only to fizzle into nothing. Didn't like the way they'd extinguish like a candle flame snuffed out, or the way it made me feel cold, like someone had taken my heart and painted it over with ice.

At the academy, there were a few kids whose bodies were full of the tiny, buzzing, flickering things. Maybe it was unfair of me, but I stayed far, far away from them.

It wasn't that the insects repulsed me, or even the fact that they seemed to be living inside of people.

It was that they just. Kept. Dying.

.

.

.

Incoming from the left. Quick dodge, spin back to gain better position—aim—jab—

_Block._ Okay, so he must have anticipated that. Back up, back up, don't want to get hit and_ why is he so fast that is so not fair_—

_Ouch—_

I hit the ground and skidded, killing several ants in the process. But there was no time to be horrified, no time to think—_he's coming quick, hurry up and regain footing, hurry_—

My arms flailed, feet scrambled to get up—and then he was _there_ and his leg—no, arm? No, leg—was crashing down and I tried to roll away but there was no time—

The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, breathless, with a ringing headache. A few of my classmates were cheering on the sidelines, yelling things akin to "Yagura-kun won!" and "Wow, he totally kicked her butt!" Statements which, to be fair, were true, but did they really have to state the obvious?

Yagura didn't seem much more pleased with the cheering than I was, if his chakra was any indication. But then again, he seemed the type that was never much pleased with anything. Gruff and sour, like a dried up lemon.

"You gonna lie there all day?" said Yagura the lemon, and I belatedly realized that his hand was extended outwards in a gesture of impatient courtesy.

"Oh, um. Thanks," I said, letting him help me up. And then, because I had no idea what else to say: "Good fight." (That was a lie. It was _not_ a good fight.)

Yagura just snorted and walked back to the sidelines. I wondered whether or not I should take offense, but in the end decided not to. Sparring had tired me out, and getting angry was just too much work at the moment.

.

.

.

Dog.

Boar.

Ram.

Call forth chakra from deep inside, build it up, visualize, let the seals direct and mold, twist and shape—

_Transformation!_

I heard the telltale _poof_ of smoke. Felt chakra cloak my body, mimicking the the shape and form of my teacher. Held my breath. Awaited judgement.

"I'm sorry," Daikoku-sensei began, and at those words I deflated.

Failed again.

_No._

My hands twitched back into the Dog seal, left palm over curled fist. Try again. I had to try again.

Dog, Boar, Ram.

_Poof_.

Did I get it?

"Miyo."

That's a no, then. One more time—

A hand landed on my shoulder and I paused in the middle of the Boar seal.

"I'm sorry, Miyo, but I don't think this is going to work," Daikoku-sensei said. "You need proper visualization for a successful Transformation," he added pointedly.

_Visualization. Right._

So that was two techniques I couldn't do; clones, or at least illusionary ones, also required visualization to work.

My shoulders slumped. "How'm I going to graduate? If I can't—if I can't do this—"

"You don't need to know the Transformation jutsu to graduate," Daikoku-sensei said firmly. "Failing the ninjutsu portion won't automatically fail _you_." He patted my shoulder. "Work hard in other areas. You can still pass."

"Yes, sensei," I said, but I couldn't help but feel doubtful.

Could I do it? Could I graduate? For the first time, I wasn't sure. So far I hadn't proved to be very good at _anything_, really—except for maybe chakra control. But what use was _that_ when I couldn't even do any of the techniques?

I sighed.

Maybe I just wasn't cut out to be a ninja.

.

.

.

More and more often, I found myself seeking refuge in music. Whenever I had a bad day (which was depressingly frequent) I'd make a beeline for my flute, lock myself in my room, and then dive into the music. There was something pleasant about playing the familiar-but-not tunes, something wistfully sweet that seldom failed to soothe my nerves.

This time, though, not even the music could erase the niggling doubt in my mind.

I was sitting on the old, gnarled bamboo mat—fingering my flute and unsure of what to do, when I heard the front door open and felt a familiar presence enter the house.

_Mom_, I thought in relief. Lately, she'd taken to going out of town—visiting an old friend, I think—so it was rare that she'd be home at this hour. Whatever the reason she was back, I was grateful—after the fruitless endeavors of the past week or so, I really needed someone to talk to.

I charged out into the front hall. "Mom!"

"Miyo-_oof_," she said, as I barreled into her. There was a sort of panicked rustling, and I could tell that she was trying not to drop her bag. "Miyo-chan?"

I mumbled something incoherent to her stomach.

Mom must have sensed my distress because she sighed and put down her bag with a _rustle-thunk_. "Let's go make some tea."

We ended up brewing lavender tea, which I suspected was due to its stress-relieving properties. Sure enough, something about the delicate floral scent was very relaxing and I felt myself slowly beginning to unwind.

The two of us sat in silence, sipping at our teacups. My mother, ever patient, seemed content to wait for me to begin talking.

"I killed some ants today," I began, a bit inanely. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident."

"Hmm," Mom said, but didn't say anything else. She was still waiting.

After a few minutes I sighed and crumpled. "Mom, what if I can't graduate?"

"I'm sure you can if you work hard," she said serenely. "You've still quite a lot of time."

I flicked at my teacup, listening to it rattle in its saucer. Another five minutes passed before I spoke up again. "Maybe, but I'm…not very good at anything. I'm never going to be like you or Yoroi-nii-san."

"Never is a strong word," was her mild reply. "Do you really think that I'd always been like this? I was rather clumsy as well, when I was your age."

"You were?" I frowned. It was difficult imagining Mom as a little girl. She'd always been so calm and strong and self-assured; it was like she'd sprung into being that way. "But you're so…_strong_."

"Mighty oaks from little acorns grow," Mom said, and something about that phrase sounded familiar. A quote? Maybe. I know I'd heard it somewhere before.

It didn't matter. It wasn't the _point_.

"Okay," I said, "but what if _I_ still can't? I'm just not—what if I can't—after everything you—you helped—and—I don't want—"

I stopped, frustrated. I'd never been very good with words. They always tended to desert me in the moments I needed them the most; it was like everything got tangled up on the way down from my brain to my mouth and came out as one big clunky jumble.

Fortunately, Mom being _Mom_ seemed to have no trouble translating my garbled mess.

"Oh," she sighed, "is that what this is about?"

The chair scraped as she stood up and came over to hug me.

"Silly, I don't care if you become a ninja or not," she said, and her voice was comforting and soft, like downy feathers.

"Really?" I asked, and I knew I was being stupid—_of course_ she didn't care, she wasn't the one who insisted I become a ninja—but she'd worked so hard, spent so much time helping me, been so _supportive_—and I was terribly, terribly afraid of disappointing her.

"Really," she said.

"So—if, if I don't pass—if I—" I kept stumbling over my words, but Mom seemed to understand.

"No matter what happens, you'll always be my little acorn," she said, hugging me again. "And I'm sure you'll be beautiful no matter what direction you choose to grow in."

I choked down my clumsy words and hugged her back, feeling better than I've had in ages.

.

.

.

Mom was being called out for a mission. I wanted for her to stay—especially with Yoroi absent on his own mission—but I knew that it was a childish desire so I squashed the notion.

"I'll be back soon," Mom said, patting my head. "Take care of your brother when he gets back, okay? Goodness knows he needs to eat more vegetables."

"Okay," I said, still a bit glum.

Mom squeezed my hand. "When I get back, I'll buy a little something for us. Lavender?"

"Okay," I said again, feeling a little lighter. I liked lavender.

"Alright. Lavender it is, then."

She patted my head one more time, and then was gone.

And I was alone again.

.

.

.

My brother came back from his mission, and I was very glad to see him.

(Not that I'd been _lonely_ or anything. Really. I was just glad I wasn't by myself anymore.)

That evening, he helped me make dinner. We were in the middle of boiling noodles when I remembered Mom's request and began shoving vegetables and other things inside the pot. I made especially sure to add a lot of tomatoes. Yoroi hated tomatoes.

"I hate tomatoes," my brother complained.

I grinned. "Was this before or after the Tomato Incident?"

"The Tomato Inci—what, you still remember that? That was years ago!"

"I'm an elephant," I told him seriously, and then poured in another dozen tomato slices. I mashed the stuff around with a chopstick so he wouldn't be able to just pluck them out later.

"Well, whatever, Miss Elephant," he sniffed. "I'll have you know that I've hated tomatoes for my entire life. The Incident was just further proof that they're evil vegetables."

"Fruit," I corrected absently, feeling around the pot with my chopstick. There was barely any resistance—the mass of tomatoes was a squishy pulp now. _Perfect_.

Time to serve the soup.

"There are more tomatoes than noodles now," Yoroi said in dismay as I poured the finished soup into two bowls. "More tomatoes than _soup_. This isn't tomato noodle soup anymore, this is noodle soup _tomato_."

I beamed. "Yep. Isn't that great?"

"You're evil, you know."

"Love you, too, nii-san."

We settled around the dining table, and Yoroi (when he'd finished grumbling about tomatoes) asked me about school.

"We just finished a survival exercise, a few days ago," I said. "One week. In the forest. No supplies."

"Alright. So how did it go?"

"It went okay. I caught a squirrel."

My brother paused. "One squirrel? That's it?"

"Yeah."

Another incredulous pause. "…How the heck did you survive for a week out there?"

"Foraging," I said. "Lots of stuff out there. Berries, fruits, nuts, mushrooms. And I…" I hesitated and lowered my voice. "I don't really like killing."

"Um, Miyo," Yoroi said, his voice heavy with emphasis, "you're going to be a _ninja_."

I frowned. "So I have to like killing things to be a ninja?"

"That's not what I meant." He sighed. "You know, if you can't bring yourself to kill a _squirrel_—"

"But I _did_ kill the squirrel."

"After what, six days?"

"I was—"

A knock on the door interrupted our argument. I blinked and closed my mouth, then concentrated on feeling out the unfamiliar presence.

There was a man—I was pretty sure it was a man—at our door, and his chakra was too refined, too powerful to be a civilian's.

"It's a ninja," I said, with a vague sense of foreboding. The man's chakra felt…grim. Cold. Resigned.

I didn't like it.

"I'll get it," Yoroi said, getting up.

After a moment, I followed him. We reached the front door; my brother opened it and made a noise of surprise.

"Oh, hello, Takeshi-sensei. What brings you here?"

The man's chakra went colder. I tensed and huddled closer to my brother, not sure what to expect, but knowing it wasn't anything good.

"Hello, Yoroi-kun," the man—Takeshi—said. "Do you mind if…?"

"Sure, come in. We were just having dinner, you know—I hope you don't mind noodle soup tomato?"

"That won't be necessary," Takeshi said, unfazed by my brother's strange phrasing. "I won't be staying long."

We led him to the living room where the chairs were comfier and more suited to accommodate guests. Yoroi waited until everyone was seated before saying:

"So what brings you here, Takeshi-sensei?"

"It's your mother," Takeshi said quietly.

I felt a jolt of fear. Next to me, Yoroi went deathly still.

"What happened?" he asked.

Takeshi sighed. "Her mission…did not go very well."

Something _wild _and _scared_ was building up inside me and I struggled to push it down, but _it was like trying to stop a giant boulder from rolling down a slope_—

"I'm sorry," Takeshi said, "but I'm afraid…"

He trailed off, as if reluctant to go on—and I was _teetering on the edge of a cliff and the boulder was still rolling down, down, down_—and then he forced himself to continue—

"I'm afraid that she won't be coming back."

_And the boulder fell_.

.

.

.

* * *

**A/N:**

Takeshi is Yoroi's old jounin sensei. He's actually a canon character—in Narutopedia he's listed as "Kabuto's trainer." He didn't seem to have a name, though, so I just gave him one.

Thus, from here on out, Kabuto's trainer shall be known as Sarugaku Takeshi. Yay. Trumpets. Fanfare.

Oh, and apologies for that bit of a spoiler involving Kabuto. I know that a lot of people get upset by that kind of thing, so. Sorry again.

By the way, if you're curious to see what Miyo looks like I have a picture on my deviantart account. It's a family portrait, so Ran is there as well. You can find the link on my profile.

I've actually been wanting to post more pictures, but my account has been all sorts of wonky lately. Hopefully this issue will be resolved soon. xP


	6. liatris

**A/N:**

NobodyInParticlr:

I do make an effort to stay consistent with canon, so yes, there will likely be more spoilers in the future. I know it can be rather inconvenient for you and others, and for that I apologize. :(

And to answer your question, Kabuto's backstory is expanded in chapters 582 - 584.

* * *

**Little Acorn**

.

-6-

liatris

_I will try again_

.

.

.

Mother had left a long time ago.

He didn't remember her; he'd been too young.

It was okay, though, because the adults here were very nice even if they frowned and worried a lot. It was okay because he was happy here, at the orphanage.

One day, a lady visited them. She said she was here to see Mother, but of course Mother wasn't here anymore. Everyone knew that. Silly lady.

Still, she looked confused and upset so to be nice he drew her a picture of a bluebird. He thought it was fitting, because bluebirds represented happiness—or at least, that's what the old man said.

In any case, she was pleased with the picture, and told him that he was a very good artist. It made him glow with pride—and it was at that moment when, to him, the silly lady became the _nice_ lady.

The nice lady visited again the next Sunday. At first all she did were boring things, like talking to the adults and asking them lots of questions. He thought it was awful that someone so nice should be so dull—and so, in an effort to help her become more interesting, he decided to draw her some more pictures.

It must have worked, because after that she began to pay more attention to the children. She also began bringing them food and flowers, and telling stories to the children, and fixing anyone and everyone who got hurt.

Sundays quickly became a day to look forward to—so much that he had a pretty little picture prepared for her every week in anticipation to her visit. He liked showing her his sketches, because it made her smile, and he liked her smile. It was calm and gentle and made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

It continued like this for a while. Short little Sunday visits, flowers, stories, weekly sketches.

Then, rather abruptly, she stopped visiting.

He waited, of course—they all did—but she never came back. Which was a shame, because he'd worked quite hard on that week's drawing and now he'd never get to show her.

Not long after the nice lady stopped visiting, the cyclops came. The adults didn't like the cyclops very much—they yelled at him and called him bad names—but in the end, the adults fell quiet and disappeared; the orphanage emptied; the children followed the cyclops into the ground.

Everything was a bit of a blur after that. They began teaching him, telling him how to act and behave, showing him how to become a better person. Following their instructions, he soon learned that things like emotions and personality and friends were Very Bad.

So he hollowed himself out and got rid of them.

After that, things grew even fuzzier. He felt as if the world had dulled into monotone. Blurred into smears of gray. Shifted out of focus. Become something strange and empty and thin.

Sometimes he'd sit down and try to sketch out a scene from his past, of the orphanage and the people who lived there.

He couldn't.

Their faces…he didn't remember any of it.

All he knew now was the underground and the masks and the darkness; everything else was hard—_so hard_—to remember.

Eventually, the day came when he realized that he couldn't even recall his own _name_, and he wondered if, perhaps, this was what it felt like to be—

—absolutely nothing at all.

.

.

.

_Multitudes of soft, warm voices_; _and woven throughout it all was a familiar, heady floral scent_…

_And then all of a sudden everyone was leaving and there was nothing, nothing I could do_—_they vanished one by one, leaving behind nothing but a final, lingering trace of lavender_—

I started awake, heart pounding, eyes horrifyingly damp. There was one frantic moment when I wasn't sure who or where I was, and then it all came crashing back.

_Alone._ I was _alone_, by _myself_, left _behind_, with nothing but shadowy thoughts for company.

Feeling sick, I stumbled out of bed, dragging the tangled blanket along with me. The night was cold and unfriendly and I didn't want to brave it all alone.

I found him outside, huddled on the front step, like he was waiting for someone. Without saying a word, I settled down next to him.

"Imouto-chan," my brother said, voice creaking like a rusted hinge. He sounded tired and hoarse, and I knew he hadn't been sleeping any better than I had.

I shivered; the air was chilly. Carefully, I draped my blanket over the both of us.

"You should be inside," he said. "In bed."

I didn't answer, just burrowed deeper into his side. Relished the company, and the warmth, and the fact that he was _real_ and he was _there_.

"I'm not going to leave, you know," he said, perhaps guessing the direction of my thoughts.

"Promise?" I asked, and it was the Kyuubi attack all over again. Only this time, nobody was coming back.

"I promise," he said, and I relaxed enough to stop crying.

We spent the night on that front step, cocooned in a raggedy old blanket. The cloth of the blanket was thin and gave little protection from the night air. I didn't care, though, because my brother was still here—still _here_, and not leaving. And that knowledge warmed me in a way that a blanket never could.

.

.

.

"Miyo?"

I didn't answer. It seemed to make her nervous.

"I can—I can leave if, if you think I'm intruding—oh honestly, what am I saying, of course you think I'm intruding—"

Funny how she stuttered. She usually never did.

"—I'll just, ah, _go_ then—I mean, if you need me, I'll be—"

"I wanted flowers," I said quietly.

Shiho froze mid-retreat. Several seconds passed before she asked cautiously:

"Did you—did you want anything in particular?"

I plucked off a nearby flower in response.

_Poppy._

"Oh," she said, sounding subdued. "I'll…I'll help."

We picked the quiet, sleepy poppies together in silence. It was a familiar rhythm, picking flowers with Shiho. Calming. Relaxing. I could almost forget.

Almost.

.

.

.

I set the basket of flowers down in front of the memorial. Then I laid a hand on the stone, tracing the carefully engraved characters.

_Dad. Mom._

At least they were together, now.

"I brought flowers," I said to the stone. "Lavender—since you couldn't get them yourself."

There was no reply, which was no surprise. I wasn't sure why I had expected one.

"Poppies, too. Shiho says they stand for remembrance, so…"

My voice wobbled dangerously and I had to take a moment to compose myself.

"So I'm saying that…that I won't ever forget. What you said. And—that I'll make you proud. Grow into something you'll be proud of."

So awkward, these words. And yet, sincere. I meant every single one of them.

I stood in melancholy silence for a long while before turning around to leave. Behind me I could feel the lavender fluttering, and the poppies twitching in the wind. Small and ponderous and sad.

_In Flanders Fields the poppies blow_, came the strange, unbidden thought. I shook it off, too tired to wonder what it meant, and continued on my way home.

.

.

.

I blew.

Reedy notes tumbled out, thin and dry.

_Nothing_.

Shifting my fingers, I blew again.

_Just…nothing._

For a long time I just sat there, frowning. Something was missing, something vital—but I didn't know what.

A few more vain attempts. Still nothing.

_I can't do this_, was my last thought before I gave up and put the flute away.

.

.

.

These days, I drifted through school in a strange combination of determination and apathy. Determination to get better; apathy in everything else.

It felt…weirdly hollow, like I was a ghost whose only anchor to the world was the desperate need to _improve_. That need became my defining trait—my _lifeline_—something real and solid I could cling to, something doubly necessary in a competitive environment like the Academy. Because now, it was no longer about learning the subjects; it was about _conquering _them. Nothing much mattered anymore, but the struggle—the fight—the _win_.

The days wore on and soon settled into a mechanical sort of routine. During class, I would devote my entire attention to lessons, be they theoretical or practical, mental or physical. After class, I'd head into the Academy training grounds and attack the training posts until I collapsed. The physical exercise was painful, tiring, mindless—not to mention that my growth in strength seemed to crawl at an achingly slow pace—but I forced myself to continue, because it was the only way I knew to become stronger.

.

.

.

A spar. I was in a spar, against a classmate. A boy named Shinta.

_Turn. Feint. Kick._

Shinta was one of those tall, spindly types who were annoyingly fast and hard to keep track of in a fight. I could keep up with him—barely—for all of thirty seconds before I began to tire.

_Block. Duck. Dodge._

I was purely on the defensive now, struggling to anticipate my opponent's moves. My mind was keeping up a steady litany of _don't-get-hit-don't-get-hit_—but I was slipping, and it wouldn't be long now, wouldn't be long until I'd make a mistake, lose all control of the fight—

And…there it was.

I left an opening.

He took it.

The ground was grainy, dusty, rough; I hit it _hard_, felt the incoming sweep of limbs and knew it was over—

I grit my teeth.

_No._

I didn't want it to end like this, like it did a thousand times before, like it always did. I _couldn't_ let it end like this. Not if I wanted to _change_.

My fingers curled. Almost unconsciously, I judged the distance and direction; then—without really thinking—I aimed and _threw_.

He yelped and faltered as the dirt hit his face. As I rolled away, I spared a split second to marvel at the larger-than-anticipated reaction—I'd forgotten how dependent most people were on their eyes—and then a second had passed, and I was behind my opponent and back on my feet.

Not about to give him any more time to recover, I directed a vicious kick at the back of his knee, causing him to stumble and loose his footing.

And that was all I needed. I was on top of him in an instant, fist poised above his neck. He froze.

"I win," I said quietly.

For a few seconds, no one said anything. Then Shinta broke the shocked silence.

"You cheated," he said, voice tinged with disbelief.

I blinked. "…Sorry."

(A lie. I wasn't.)

"You _cheated_," Shinta repeated, sounding a touch angrier, a touch more accusing.

This time I didn't reply, just got off and awkwardly offered a hand. It felt strange to do so, since usually I was the one being helped up after fights. I vaguely wondered if I was doing it right.

It didn't matter, as it turned out. Shinta got up by himself, ignoring my proffered hand altogether.

We walked back to the sidelines, him stewing in silent anger all the way. While I was a bit abashed by his obvious irritation, I was ultimately unrepentant over the bout of dirty fighting.

It was _necessary_, after all.

Because right now, although my taijutsu was certainly improving, I could tell it wouldn't ever be _great_. No, I had to find another way, a more reliable way to win my fights.

And if being sneaky was the trick, then so be it.

.

.

.

The garden was falling into disarray. Which was understandable, really—it wasn't as if my brother had the inclination or necessary skill to tend to it; as for me, I simply didn't want—

—no, simply didn't have the time.

Yes, that was right. With all my efforts pinned on the goal of _getting better_, I just didn't have time to care for the plants anymore.

That was it.

(It had nothing, nothing at all to do with the horribly familiar flowers and scents, or the wonderful, _terrible_ memories that accompanied them.)

.

.

.

After years of witnessing—of _feeling_ things die, one would think that it would get easier.

It didn't.

"What are you waiting for?" Neji demanded. He was (unfortunately) my partner for this survival exercise. So far, he hadn't said anything derogative yet—on the contrary, he'd been nothing but painfully formal. Nonetheless, I sensed that the strained civility between us was quickly drawing to a close.

My grip on the kunai tightened. The rabbit had been caught in the trap Neji had set up, but it was still alive, still _vibrant_. It was thrashing inside the tangled wire, chakra fluttering in a sort of wild, instinctive fear.

"If you won't do it, I will," Neji said. He stepped forward.

_No_, I thought. This was _my_ problem to deal with. This was _my_ opportunity to learn, and I couldn't let someone else take it away, no matter how much I wanted them to.

A quick jerk, and my kunai slashed downwards. A brief squeal from the rabbit, and then the chakra dulled, and the life drained away, overtaken by cold _cold coldcoldcold_—

"Pathetic," said Neji, and I realized that I was trembling. I took a shuddering breath and calmed down, forcing, _twisting_ my chakra into a quiet tranquility. It was a weird, artificial sort of calm, but it worked at the moment and that was all that mattered.

"_Pathetic_," he repeated, voice shaking ever so slightly. "You—you're just like my cousin." His chakra was agitated, roiling with suppressed anger and bitterness and—oddly enough—grief.

I turned so that I faced him. For a moment I was silent.

"Would you like to gather the wood?" I finally said, quiet and carefully polite. "I'll skin the rabbit."

A quick flare of anger and resentment, sharp and sudden. But in the end he said nothing, just strode away—presumably to collect the firewood.

I turned back to my rabbit, and fortified myself.

My fingers tightened.

The kunai descended.

.

.

.

Daikoku-sensei was making an announcement.

"Class, a new student will be joining us this year..."

I wasn't really paying attention, though. There wasn't much I paid attention to anymore these days, aside from class lessons and other relevant material.

So I tuned out my teacher's voice, and was mindlessly spinning my pencil in slow circles when a loud, _unpleasant_ voice shattered the air.

"Listen up!" the voice proclaimed. Startled, I dropped the pencil. I was about to pick it up, but the next words froze me to the spot.

"My name is Uzumaki Naruto, and I'm gonna be Hokage one day! You'd better believe it!"

.

.

.

Uzumaki Naruto was an obnoxious little menace.

He was _annoying_.

He was _loud_.

He _grated_.

And most of all, he _would not shut up_.

"He's driving me crazy," I complained to Shiho as we met up in our usual lunch spot. "He's always shouting, or jumping around, or bragging, or saying mean things about the teacher, or making _some_ sort of noise—it's horrible, I swear I've gone half-_deaf_."

"I'm sure," Shiho said agreeably.

"And he's always going on about how amazing he is and how he's going to be Hokage, but really, all he does in class is slack off! It's so annoying! And the way he's always _talking_—he's like a, a…" I paused and flailed a bit, struggling to find an analogy that would convey the sheer extent of my indignation.

"Like a monkey?" Shiho suggested.

I scrunched up my face. "More like a hyperactive squirrel with a megaphone. Only louder, and more annoying."

Shiho giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"Your ranting," she said. "It's very nice."

What?

"My ranting is nice?"

"Oh yes," she said. "To be frank, I haven't seen you so angry about _anything_ for a long time. It's nice."

I furrowed my brow.

So she was happy because I was…angry.

Okay.

"Um, what," I said blankly.

"Well, honestly," Shiho said, sounding more serious. "Honestly, ever since…well, _that—_you've been walking around like a zombie. No interest in anything except for school and training."

Now that she mentioned it, I realized I had been rather…distant.

"Oh. I'm sorry," I said, subdued. How selfish. And to think, all this time Shiho had stuck by me and I hadn't been a good friend to her _at all_…

Shiho patted my shoulder in a reassuring sort of way.

"It's okay," she said. "I don't blame you. It's just nice to see you with some _life_ again."

.

.

.

I eased the flute out of the dust-smeared casing. It'd been years since I last played it, but now…

Now it was time to try again.

My fingers fumbled, clumsy from disuse, and the notes stumbled out in a shallow, scratchy warble. It was nothing like the sweet melodies I could lure out in the past.

Even so, I could tell that something was different.

The music no longer felt hollow, or incomplete; it was all _there_ and _alive_ and _beautiful_. And though the tone left something to be desired, all I could think of was how wonderful it was to be able to _sing_ again.

.

.

.

Shiho, for whatever reason, had decided that Uzumaki Naruto was "a good influence" on me and was pushing me to invite him into our little circle of friends. (Or rather, our line segment of friends, since there were only two of us. But that was beside the point.)

I had, of course, vehemently tried to veto her decision, but Shiho was not to be moved on the matter.

Thus I resigned myself to my fate:

To befriend the loudest, most irritating person in my class.

If I had to be perfectly honest with myself, though, Naruto himself was only half of the issue. I wouldn't have minded him nearly as much if it weren't for those weird _feelings_ I always got around him.

Recognition, for example. (Like I knew him from somewhere, or had met him before.)

Foreboding. (Dark and heavy; a deep conviction that something big was going to happen.)

Power. (Which, strangely enough, seemed to be mostly trapped in a bizarre doodle on his stomach.)

Those three were the main ones, but there was more—a _lot_ more.

Determination.

Hate.

Loneliness.

Warmth.

Fire.

Life.

It was all just one big mass of _feeling_, so intense that it made me uneasy…not to mention the odd impressions I kept getting around him, mainly about foxes and toads. For whatever reason.

I forced myself to ignore it, at least for right now. I couldn't afford to chicken out, after all.

There—target approaching.

Once he was near enough to hear me, I cleared my throat.

"Uzumaki Naruto?"

Immediately, I had his attention.

"Yeah?" He seemed caught in a strange mix of suspicion and hope. I gave a polite smile and resisted the urge to twiddle my fingers.

_No backing out now, Miyo. Just say_ _it._

Taking a deep breath, I plunged forward:

"Hello, Naruto. Would you like to be friends?"

.

.

.

Naruto, I decided, wasn't so bad once you got past the boasting and the constant chatter. He still wasn't easy being around, what with the intense aura-thing he had going on, but after a few days I'd mostly gotten used to it. Besides, he was friendly enough, and very spirited. Lunchtime had certainly become much more _lively _ever since he joined us.

Another nice thing was that I no longer had to face class lessons alone, since Naruto now sat at my table. He wasn't exactly the most helpful partner for class work, but it was pleasant nonetheless—I'd really forgotten how wonderful it was, to sit next to a friend.

Naruto himself was rather excited at the prospect of having a friend—he seemed to express this by exuding a constant stream of loud, high-speed babbling—both during class and outside of it—and it wasn't long before I learned about his obsession with ramen, his love of orange (which I understood to be some sort of color), his hatred of vegetables, and his fondness for growing plants.

That last bit in particular caught my attention. It was a common point, after all. A trait we seemed to share.

"So do you have a garden?" I asked him one day, after our little trio had settled under the usual oak tree.

"Nah," he said, popping the lid off the container of his lunch. "Not enough space. Just Mr. Ukki and a few others, but that's okay, 'cause they're nice and I'm fine with them."

"Wait," said Shiho. "Mr. Ukki? You _name_ your plants?"

"Well, yeah. It's more awesome like that, see?"

"Um. Right."

"Plus," Naruto went on blithely, "this way, it's kind of like having a family, which is really cool. I've always wanted a family."

Shiho fell silent. I didn't blame her; what was one supposed to say to something like that?

Thankfully, Naruto didn't seem to notice our uneasiness and had already continued to ramble on about some random inconsequential thing. I made an effort to listen, but my mind kept drifting back to what Naruto had said earlier.

_Gardens, plants, family_.

It was…familiar. And it made me think.

Made me think about the untended patch of ground in the backyard, the discarded bundles of lavender, the dying tomato plants. How there was always a sense of fear and dread and _distance_, and how the memories made me want to turn around and never come back.

Then I thought about Naruto—annoying, brash, straightforward, _fearless _Naruto—and I wondered if maybe it was time to stop running away.

"…was no problem at all for an awesome ninja like me!" Naruto said loudly, jerking me out of my thoughts. "And so then I was like, _bam_, and all the frying pans exploded—"

"Naruto," I interrupted.

"Eh?"

"I have a garden."

"Oh." He seemed puzzled. "Um, that's great?"

"It's old," I hurried on, "and a bit neglected. So I was, um, wondering if you and Shiho wanted to help me patch it up? There's lots of plants there, too and you can name them if you want…that way it'll be like having one big family."

For a moment Naruto seemed speechless. Then the joy _overflowed_, and I had to inch backwards to avoid getting scorched from the sheer intensity of it.

"Sure!" he said, practically vibrating with happiness.

"Sounds good," Shiho agreed. "I wouldn't mind."

I smiled, relieved that I wouldn't be facing this alone. "Okay, so, how about this Saturday?"

.

.

.

"Oh, those are the rosemary pots. Here, let's move them into the sunlight—"

Shiho was delighted. "Ah, rosemary! It means 'remembrance' in the language of flowers, did you know?"

_Remembrance_.

I froze. "I—uh, yes. Yes."

"So Naruto, did you think of any good names yet?" asked Shiho, either not noticing or not commenting on my sudden panic. Probably the latter. That was an awfully quick subject change.

"Yeah!" Naruto said, while I recomposed myself. "I'm gonna call this one 'Shiho-chan' and that one 'Miyo-chan' and that one…'Naruto the Future Hokage'!"

Shiho seemed unimpressed. "What the heck?"

"What? They're good names!"

"Not that I'm not flattered," she said, violently watering the Naruto plant, "but why on earth—"

"Uh, Shiho," I cut in, poking the flooded soil with a dubious finger. "You're watering the Future Hokage too much, his roots are going to rot—"

"Oh! Sorry, I…" She paused. "Wait, don't tell me you're just going to _accept _those weird names?"

Naruto gave an obnoxious laugh. "Ha! See? Miyo-chan sees how awesome it is!"

"Awesome?" Shiho said, moving on to the Miyo plant. "More like _unoriginal—_"

"And now you're watering me too little," I interrupted happily. "You need to give me more water, or I'm going to develop a shallow root system and die. Also, I think we should prune Shiho a bit, she's getting too fat."

"Now you're just messing with me," Shiho grumbled.

I smiled innocently.

After that, we met up at my house every Saturday to work on the garden.

Our weekly sessions weren't very productive at first. For one thing, neither Naruto nor Shiho were very experienced in gardening—Naruto kept getting mixed up between herbs and weeds, and Shiho had trouble figuring out how much water she was supposed to use. (To my surprise, Naruto was rather adept in that area. When asked, he replied with an exuberant, "'Course I know how to water plants, it's like my hobby, plus I'm just awesome like that!") As for me, I simply found it hard to concentrate with so many…_ghosts_ in the garden. Although, if my friends ever did notice me freezing up or zoning out, they never said anything about it.

It got better with time.

Naruto and Shiho learned quickly.

In time, the plants were all bestowed names. (Half of which I could not remember.)

The garden regained its previous luster.

Herbs once more hung from the walls of the house.

And, one by one, the ghosts began to disappear.

.

.

.

Bullies were nothing new. They laughed, jeered, and taunted, but if you ignored them then it didn't really matter what they said.

And it wasn't like it was anything I wasn't used to; over the years, my persistence in dirty fighting earned me a rather unpopular reputation as well as a fair amount of bullies. So yes, I was good at ignoring them.

Naruto, on the other hand, wasn't.

"Why don't you say anything!" he demanded when someone—Shinta, I think—called me an unflattering name to which I refused to respond.

I blinked. "Why would I? It's not worth it."

"So you're just going to let it go? You're not going to stand up for yourself at all?"

He was getting angrier and more passionate, and his chakra was swirling around in fervent loop-de-loops, and it was all so _extreme_ that I couldn't help but feel a little alarmed.

"That's cowardly!" he shouted, and I resisted the urge to put my hands over my ears.

"Well, what would you have me do?" I said, trying to get him to calm down.

"Anything! Just—don't just lie down and let people walk all over you!"

And with that, he stormed off.

.

.

.

The next day found Shinta discovering the hard way that all his possessions were laced with itching powder.

_Rose hips are a wonderful thing_, I thought as I listened to his whines of discomfort.

Next to me, Naruto was laughing.

"Oh man, that's priceless!" he said, before recovering just enough to be suspicious. "Hey, hey, you wouldn't happen to have anything to do with it, would you?"

I gave him an angelic smile. "Why, Naruto, I have no idea what you're talking about."

.

.

.

"Pay attention," Shiho ordered, pounding the table with an iron fist.

"But this is so boring," Naruto whined. His voice scraped unpleasantly against my eardrums, which did horrible things to my tolerance.

With some effort, I squashed my irritation. Now was not the time to lose focus.

"To be frank," Shiho said, "you and Miyo both have a high chance of failing the ninjutsu portion of the final exam, which may I remind you makes up _a large percentage of your final grade_. If you want to have any chance at passing then I suggest you study hard for the written portion."

"Yeah, yeah," Naruto grumbled.

"Okay then," Shiho said. Papers rustled as she flipped through her notes. "What can you tell me about chakra resonance?"

"Cha-cha-what now?"

"It's how chakra reacts to different chakra," I said, ignoring Naruto's confused mumblings. "Usually it's subtle, like on a microscopic level, but a really powerful chakra can leave a strong impression. That's how killing intent works."

"That could have been better phrased, to be honest, but it is more or less the point, yes," Shiho agreed. "Naruto, did you get that?"

"Uh…"

"Basically, chakra affects chakra," I summarized.

"Oh, right. I guess."

Shiho sighed, and paper rustling once more filled the room. "Let's see. Maybe you'll get this one, since you seem so enamored with the Hokage position. Which Hokage was responsible for creating the great forests that give Konoha its name?"

Naruot perked up. "Woah, a Hokage made those? Seriously?"

There was a distinct sound of Shiho face-palming.

"The First," I said helpfully.

"…Right," Shiho said, recovering fast. "The trees were created from Senju Hashirama's Wood Release techniques."

"Senju who?"

The perplexed tone in Naruto's voice did not bode well.

"Naruto," I said, frowning, "did you even study at all?"

"Yes," he said, defensive. "I mean, no…I mean—!" All of a sudden, he deflated. "It's just that studying is so boring…"

At that, Shiho sighed again. "Naruto, you _need_ to study. It's very important, if you want to graduate."

Naruto grumbled but didn't reply.

I frowned. Like Shiho had said, there was a high chance of failing the ninjutsu portion of the exam, both for me and for Naruto, which put us at a severe disadvantage. And if, in the end, one of us didn't pass, then what would happen to our friendship? Up until now, I'd been harboring the rather foolish hope that if we all graduated, maybe we'd get placed on the same team. There were three of us, after all.

But now, observing Naruto, I could tell that he wasn't ready at all.

And I couldn't help but worry.

.

.

.

"Fail," said Daikoku-sensei.

It was inevitable. My clones were terrible, after all. Even so, I couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.

"However," my teacher continued, and I felt hope rise in my chest, "since you scored reasonably well in both the taijutsu exam and shurikenjutsu exam, and performed exceptionally well on the written exam, I am willing to pass you based on your overall scores."

I blinked and ran over that last sentence again.

_Willing to pass you based on your overall scores_.

There was no doubt.

I did it.

I _did_ it!

"Congratulations, Akadou Miyo," Daikoku-sensei said, as I stumbled forward to retrieve a forehead protector. He reached forward to pat my shoulder. "It's been a pleasure teaching you. Out of all my students, I daresay you've improved the most."

At those words, I almost dropped my new forehead protector in shock. This was the first time Daikoku-sensei had praised me, since…since forever, really.

"Thank you, sensei," I said, touched. As a sign of respect, I bowed. "Thank you for the gift of instruction."

Then, tying my forehead protector around my head, I left the examination room.

_Ninja._

I smiled. I was a real ninja, now.

.

.

.

The schoolyard filled up as more and more parents (and relatives) arrived to congratulate the new graduates. My brother himself wasn't there—he was out on a mission—but he'd promised to be there for the actual graduation ceremony so I wasn't too upset.

The crowd didn't bother me as it may have once had, so it was fairly easy for me to navigate through. Concentrating, I did a scan for my friends. It was in this way that I quickly found Shiho, who was talking animatedly with her parents, and Naruto, who was…sitting by himself on the swing? Why was he…

…Oh.

_Oh_.

I picked my way through the throng of people to the lonely tree under which Naruto sat.

"Naruto?" I said, once I was standing in front of him.

"Oh, hey, Miyo-chan," he said, all quiet and un-Naruto-like. "I…I guess I didn't pass."

I twisted my fingers, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry," I said at last, and it sounded trite even to my own ears.

"Yeah," he said.

Silence descended. I tried not to fidget.

"I'll try again," Naruto said finally, and this time, there was an edge of determination. "Next year, I'll try again. And this time, I won't mess up. I'll do it, and I'll graduate."

_I will try again_.

It was, I reflected, kind of amazing how he just wouldn't give up. I know I probably would have, if I'd been in his place. Failure did terrible things to my morale, but for Naruto, it just seemed to make him stronger.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm sure you will."

And somehow, I knew without a doubt that he _would_.

.

.

.

* * *

**A/N:**

Phew! This chapter just kept getting longer and longer. I really wanted to wrap up the academy years, though, so all that bulk is kind of necessary. My only hope is that it didn't seem too rushed or anything.

On an unrelated note, Naruto really does like watering plants. It's his hobby, apparently.


	7. palm

**A/N:**

This is the first Author's Note that contains somewhat important information, so heads up.

Now that I'm starting university, I find myself with a distressingly meager amount of free time. Summer break was cool and all, but now I have to get a life and start studying. Thus, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to put the story on hold for a while. Updates will be scarce from now on. Hopefully I can dredge up enough time/motivation to write during weekends and the holidays, but I'm not very optimistic. At the worst, I'll pick it up again during the summer break next year.

So yeah. Just wanted to inform you guys, so you wouldn't think I died or got kidnapped by aliens. Or something.

Anemos:

The flower meanings are scavenged from repeated online research from a variety of different websites. One of my favorite ones is Language of Flowers dot com. (Without the spaces, of course.) Lots of interesting flower meanings there, including ones like "temptation" (apple), "crime" (tamarisk), and "sourness of temper" (barberry).

I've actually considered using exclusively hanakotoba (Japanese flower language) to title the chapters, but it's a bit limited in its range of meaning. That's why I chose to use the more general language of flowers, because it's richer and provides greater diversity. :)

* * *

**Little Acorn**

.

-7-

palm

_victory_

.

.

.

He waited and waited, but the one he waited for never came.

At first it was just frustrating. Now it was disconcerting.

"You still here, huh?"

The voice rang out and seemed to hang in the still air.

He shifted and peered at the arrival. "You don't come here often."

"Hmm. No, I don't. Still no luck?"

"No. He does not come."

"You think something's wrong." It wasn't a question.

"Perhaps."

"And the others?"

He narrowed his eyes. "They believe it to be a problem with the seal."

"Like the Iron Armor Seal, then."

"It is a…possibility."

At those words, the newcomer barked out a laugh. "A _possibility_, eh? That's so like you, always cautious. Waiting around and hiding—maybe it's fine for _you,_ but I'm telling you it doesn't suit me. Doesn't suit me at all."

"Patience. We lose our advantage if we move too quickly."

"Pah. It's tedious."

"It's essential."

They lapsed into silence, considering each other.

Then the newcomer heaved a sigh. "You know if what you said is true, then Shukaku is the first priority."

"I'm well aware."

"It's just that we've been hearing rumors, you see. On our travels. Something about a bloodthirsty demon kid in Suna." A pointed stare. "Do you really think you have everything under control? Because given the word that's going around…we're a bit _concerned_."

He gave a brittle smile. "Oh, is it '_we,_' now? Whatever happened to 'don't associate me with him'?"

"Shut up. Answer the question."

He sighed and fell silent. When he finally spoke again, it was quiet and solemn. "Apologies," he murmured, "but rest assured. It's been taken care of."

The newcomer stared at him before nodding and preparing to leave. "I hope you know what you're doing."

_As do I_, he thought, watching as his companion departed. _As do I._

.

.

.

It had been a rather busy few days.

First was all the paperwork: the genin registration papers, the ID photos, the consent forms. All tedious work. After hours of fine print and wobbly signatures and slow tactile reading, I'd decided that paperwork was the most evil thing in existence.

Next was the shopping. I had just graduated, after all, and needed to buy new gear and clothing. In this, I had enlisted my brother's help, since the last time I'd gone shopping by myself I'd apparently come home looking like "a distressingly neon peacock."

And then, at last, were the team assignments.

Truth to be said, I was a bit nervous. Genin teams meant working with new people—strangers, more likely than not—and I'd never been very good with people.

On the appointed day of team assignments, I worried for the entire morning and arrived at the classroom with butterflies in my stomach. All the graduates from this year's classes were gathered together. As I sat down next to Shiho, I cast my senses around the room. All around me I could feel the brush of familiar chakra: Lee, Neji, Shinta, Tenten…

Thinking about Tenten made me feel guilty, though, so I shut down that train of thought.

Or tried to, at least.

It's awfully hard to _not_ think about something.

"Team Three—Rock Lee, Hyuuga Neji, and Tanaka Tenten," Daikoku-sensei said, which didn't exactly make it easier to not think.

It certainly didn't stop me from noticing the resultant little flares of emotion—Lee's exuberant determination, Neji's familiar disdain, Tenten's sullen resentment…

"Team Four," Daikoku-sensei continued, and I turned my attention back to team assignments.

After he finished calling out names for Team Four (none of which I recognized) he moved on to Team Five, and then Team Six…

"Team Six—Akadou Miyo—"

I perked up. This was it.

"—Ihara Yagura—"

Yagura, Ihara Yagura…I turned the name over in my mind. It was definitely familiar. He was in my class, wasn't he—?

"—and Yuuhi Shiho."

I blinked and paused mid-thought. On my right, Shiho gave a small gasp and grabbed my arm.

"Miyo! We're on the same team!"

"Yes," I agreed, a little surprised (two girls on one team was a very rare phenomenon) but happy nonetheless.

Shiho was on my team. Whatever happened, she'd be with me.

I could get through this.

.

.

.

The door burst open, and a tall someone _exploded_ into the classroom.

Several students shrieked. Next to me, Shiho froze.

"What a glorious new day it is!" the someone declared. "Team Three, follow me!"

There was silence.

"…_You_ are our jounin instructor?" Neji finally said. He sounded like he'd swallowed a lemon.

"Indeed!" the someone proclaimed, clothes rustling as he struck one dramatic pose after another. "Isn't it marvelous? To be a sensei—to tend to the bright fires of education and learning, to be able to watch them grow with a fiery passion—! _That_ is the joy of teaching! That is true happiness! Now come, our springtimes of youth await us!"

With that, he launched himself outside, blowing the door off its hinges in the process.

"Yes, sensei!" cried Rock Lee as he charged outside in pursuit. A short pause, and then two bewildered genin trailed after him.

Again, there was silence.

_Youth_._ Eyebrows. Sunsets._

I felt a shiver crawl up my spine, because dear _god_ that was really disturbing.

And familiar.

Disturbingly familiar.

The silence was broken when Daikoku-sensei coughed awkwardly and headed out the room, muttering about finding a janitor. The door let out a pitiful, splintering groan as he passed its remains.

"What just happened?" Shiho said, sounding faint.

"Youth," I mumbled back at her, feeling a bit dazed. "And eyebrows. Lots of eyebrows."

"Er," Shiho replied.

"Yes," I agreed.

It took a moment, but eventually the class recovered from the shock. After settling down, we continued to wait for our respective teachers to arrive. A few more jounin-sensei came and went, and then finally—

"Team Six?" a man called as he eased into the classroom. My heart leapt. That was us. "Team Six, you're with m—"

The man paused.

"What the heck happened to the door?"

.

.

.

We ended up in a dango shop.

It was a nice place. The atmosphere was cozy and warm, and the air was adrift with a crisp, sweet smell. The four of us—me, Shiho, Yagura, and our teacher—settled around a smooth wooden table that was tucked in the far corner of the shop.

"Thought it'd be nice to have something to eat while we talk," our jounin instructor said cheerfully as he ordered tea and dango. "It's getting close to lunch, anyway."

The tea arrived swiftly. _Orange blossom_, I noted. Shiho and I sipped from our cups. Yagura ignored his.

"So, let's start with introductions," said our new teacher. "Why don't you go first?"

It took a moment before I realized he was pointing at me.

"Um, I'm Akadou Miyo," I said. After a while it was clear that he was expecting a bit more. I hesitated, unsure of what to say.

And then, as if in answer, familiar words floated at the tip of my memory.

_Any hobbies? Likes, dislikes, dreams for the future?_

Right…that's right. I _did _have something to say, after all.

"I like playing the flute," I ventured, "and growing flowers. I have a garden."

_Hobbies. Likes._

The jounin instructor made an encouraging noise in his throat. Reassured, I continued on.

"I don't like…loud noises. Or tomatoes."

_Dislikes._

"My dream for the future is to—to…"

I faltered. My dream was something very personal. There was no way I was going to just say it out loud in front of two people I barely knew.

(_I won't ever forget what you said._)

Especially since, to me, it was more than a dream.

(_I'll make you proud. Grow into something you'll be proud of._)

It was a statement. A promise.

_My dream is to grow—_

"…to grow into a tree," I finished.

The jounin seemed perplexed. "Your dream is to become a tree?"

"Because _that's_ a perfectly reasonable goal in life," Yagura muttered under his breath.

"Trees are big and strong," I said evasively, twisting my fingers a little. "They make people look up to them. They're beautiful. And they smell nice."

The jounin fell silent. He seemed to be contemplating something. Exactly what he was thinking of, I had no idea.

"O—kay," he said after a moment, recovering his cheerful tone from before. "How about you, there, girl in the glasses?"

"I'm Yuuhi Shiho," Shiho said. "I like to read books, solve puzzles, and pick flowers. I don't like bullies, or ge—" She suddenly cut herself off. "My dream is to become worthy."

And then it was my other teammate's turn.

"My name is Ihara Yagura," he said, and then, following the tentative template I'd set up: "There aren't many things I like, and there're a lot of things I dislike, which I suppose is only natural since the world is full of crap anyway. I don't have a dream; dreams are for children."

I blinked slowly. Well, that was cynical.

"Interesting," said our jounin instructor, as if it were perfectly normal to declare your lack of faith in humanity. "I suppose it's my turn, hmm?"

My teammates and I perked up at this—all this time, and none of us knew _his_ name yet.

"Let's see," he said, setting down his teacup with a _clack_. "My name is Yamashiro Aoba, special jounin. I work in Intelligence. I like it when everything goes according to plan and I dislike it when it doesn't. My goal is to train you three into good, respectable ninja…provided, of course, that you're able to pass my little test."

"Test?" Yagura asked warily. "You mean the genin test?"

"Right-o," Aoba-sensei said happily. "You aren't officially Team Six yet until you take it, you see. But don't worry, it's a pretty simple test."

"What do we have to do?" Shiho asked, ever practical.

"Well, you see…"

.

.

.

"We're going to fail," Yagura said, after Aoba-sensei left.

Shiho made a noise of disagreement. "It's sounds easy enough, honestly. Go home, crack the individual codes he gave us"—she waved her paper in the air—"and then meet up here tomorrow and answer three questions. Surely it couldn't be _that_ difficult."

Yagura scoffed. "You don't get it, do you? The test's a dud. It'll be designed to make us fail."

"What do you mean?" I asked, appalled. That couldn't be right, could it? It seemed so…needlessly cruel.

"Take a look around you," Yagura said. "What do you see?"

"Um…"

Yagura plowed on before I could even begin to wonder how to answer that.

"A weirdo treehugger, a bookworm from a no-name clan, and a talentless nobody. None of the higher ups would waste jounin resources on people like us. We're a fake team. A throwaway."

I winced. Not that I minded being called a weirdo—especially since it was kind of true—but Shiho got touchy when it came to matters concerning her clan. I wasn't sure _why_ that was the case; all I knew was that the "no-name clan" dig was a really bad idea.

And…I was right. I could _feel_ Shiho's chakra puff up in sharp, twisting anger.

"Frankly," she began, voice lowering to a hiss, "your pessimism is getting ridiculous and it's doing no one any favors. A throwaway, _really_? Just what exactly are you basing this on, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know," Yagura bit back, "just a small, unimportant thing I like to call_ reality_."

"There's a _difference_ between reality and _paranoia_."

"Psh. You don't _say_."

"You—! Ugh, you're the most spiteful, unlikeable person I've ever met!"

"Um, guys?"

"Personal insults, now? I'm in _awe_ of your maturity."

"Guys—"

"And _I'm_ in awe of your nihilism. 'The world is full of crap'—_honestly_."

"Hey, uh—"

"I'm not a nihilist, I'm a cynic. Get your facts straight. Really, for a bookworm you sure are ignora_—oh-_my-god-that's-hot."

"Sorry," I said, my empty teacup dangled over his head. When my attempts at getting their attention had failed, I had resorted to assault via orange blossom tea.

Hardly the most diplomatic solution, but at least it worked, right?

(Although, Yagura didn't seem too happy about it…)

"What was that for?"

"Sorry," I said again, not bothering to sound contrite at all, "but we should probably get started. It's already two and I'm terrible at breaking codes."

Plus, Aoba-sensei had strongly hinted that, once solved, the hidden message in the codes would instruct us to do something. That meant that the sooner we cracked our codes the better, just in case it was something ridiculously time-consuming like, I don't know, creating a replica of the Hokage Monument. Or beating Naruto in a ramen-eating competition.

"Besides," I continued, "the faster we get the codes done the better chance we'll have of passing."

"…Right," said Shiho.

Yagura made a noise of assent that sounded like, "Hwmphng."

I tapped the table with a finger. "Okay, so, meet up here at nine in the morning tomorrow?"

"Okay."

"Mhgrn."

And so we left the dango shop, each of us going our separate ways.

.

.

.

The entire rest of the day was spent running my hands over the slip of paper Aoba-sensei gave me, racking my brain for an answer, and scribbling out possible combinations in my notebook. In the end, though, it was no use.

The cipher was just too complex, and I wasn't nearly good enough at code-breaking to solve it.

I just couldn't do it.

.

.

.

I arrived at the dango shop the next morning, dejected and feeling like I'd let my team down. All their hard work, and I blew it for them because I couldn't figure out one stupid code.

As I slinked toward the table we used yesterday, I realized that Yagura and Shiho were there already. I sighed and braced myself. Might as well get it over with.

"Um, guys," I began, and then forced myself to continue. "I, ah. Didn't manage to solve the code. Sorry."

The answers I got were surprising.

"You too?" asked Shiho.

"Join the club," Yagura muttered.

They sounded tired, as if they'd spent the whole night working on their slips. Like how I almost did, at least until I fell asleep at my desk.

"But," I said, and then: "Huh?"

They failed, too? Yagura I could maybe understand (as mean as that sounded), but Shiho? Code-breaking was her _thing_. Back at the Academy, she had _owned_ the one unit we did on ciphers. The idea that Shiho failed in something like this was ridiculous and completely alien.

"You didn't solve the code, Shiho?" I asked, just to make sure.

Shiho sighed. "I was certain I _did_, to be honest, until I put the words together and got a message that made no sense. I tried over and over again, but it was always the same thing. See, look."

She handed me the slip that Aoba gave her. I funneled chakra into my fingers and read the "uncoded" message:

_TRUE ANY OFTEN RIDDLE A AN IF ATTENTION MIGHT KEY_

Well, that was coherent.

"Hang on," Yagura said suddenly. "I thought we weren't allowed to share our slips with each other? What happened to _confidential information_?"

"That only applies _after_ we solved them," Shiho said. "Don't you remember the instructions Aoba-sensei gave us?"

"…Vaguely."

"'Once the three of you have solved your codes,'" Shiho recited, "'consider the information inside strictly classified. I don't care if the Hokage himself walks up to you and asks for it—don't tell anyone. Tomorrow, I will ask you questions relevant to the hidden message in the codes, so you'd best solve it by the end of today.'"

"…How do you even do that? Was that word for word? Tell me it wasn't word for word."

Shiho ignored him. "Basically, we can tell each other _now_ but not after…we solve…it…" She trailed off and went very still.

I was about to prod Shiho when I noticed something familiar flickering at the edge of my tightly drawn-in senses. A pleasant chakra that felt like silky leaves.

"That's it," Shiho said, snapping me out of sensor-mode. I turned my attention back to the matter at hand.

"What?" Yagura demanded. "What is it?"

"We've been going about this the wrong way," she said. "These aren't individual ciphers, they're all part of the same code! The three separate pieces and the confidentiality thing were just to mislead us and prevent us from working together—quick, Aoba-sensei will probably be here soon—let me see your slips!"

Yagura and I whipped our papers out. Shiho grabbed them.

"Let's see," she muttered, and I heard the _scritch-scratch_ of a pencil as she worked them out. "This is a simple checkerboard cipher, shouldn't be too difficult as long as I still have my key—a_ha_—look—"

She handed our slips back to us, with the decoded message written next to the encoded one. I ran my finger across the paper:

_THE OF WILL A IN INSIDE BUT PAY JUST THE_

And Yagura's read:

_MEANING STORY BE WRAPPED MYSTERY ENIGMA YOU YOU FIND_

"Now we bring them together," Shiho said. "Like this…yes…"

Again, I felt the breath of velvet leaves, only this time it was stronger. Then, with a jolt, I recognized it.

"Guys," I said, my voice urgent. "I can sense Aoba-sensei. He's less than a hundred meters away."

Yagura spat out an expletive and then turned to Shiho. "Hurry!"

"I'm trying!"

"Fifty meters," I said.

"Can't you solve a little faster?"

"Frankly I'll solve faster if you _talk_ less."

"Twenty-five," I said.

Shiho mumbled something incoherent, and then:

"I've got it! It's like a rail fence cipher—that's clever, by the way, a cipher within a cipher—anyway, the words are written downwards on a 'rail'—being, in this case, the separate slips of paper—so we just need to alternate words and the message—"

"Save the cryptography lesson for later, we don't have time!"

"Ten meters—he's just around the corner—"

Hurried _scritch-scratch_-ing continued.

After what seemed like an eternity (but was probably only a few seconds), Shiho threw down her pencil. "Here's the message," she said, rapidly and a little breathless. "'The true meaning of any story will often be a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma but if you pay attention you just might find the key.'"

"Lovely," said Yagura. "What the heck does it mean?"

Shiho never got a chance to answer because Aoba-sensei chose that precise moment to stroll in through the entrance of the dango shop.

_._

_._

_._

"First question," Aoba-sensei said. "What was the color of the earring I wore yesterday?"

_What_?

My mind blanked and shut down.

Luckily, it wasn't needed at the moment.

"You weren't wearing an earring yesterday," Yagura said promptly.

"Oh, a sharp one, are we? That's good. Very good. Right, second question."

Maybe I could answer this one. I perked up—

"What is the twenty-second word of the complete decoded message I sent you?"

—and immediately wilted. He was asking for the _twenty-second_? I could barely remember the first _three_.

"I've got this," Shiho said after a pause. "It's a—_ow_!"

"What part of _strictly classified_ do you not understand?" Yagura hissed under his breath, before removing his elbow from Shiho's gut.

_Oh right_, I thought. Now that we'd solved the code, we weren't allowed to talk about it. I'd forgotten…

"I'm afraid that the information is confidential," Shiho amended, a bit stiffly.

"Close call," Aoba said, and I got the impression that he was grinning. "Okay, third and final question. This one's the most important, so listen up: if you were to choose between your comrade's life and the safety of sensitive information, which would you choose?"

"Comrade's life," said Shiho.

"The information, obviously," said Yagura, at the exact same time.

_Oh boy_.

A short pause, in which I could _feel_ Shiho and Yagura glaring at each other.

"Dissension in the team?" Aoba said lightly.

"Um," I spoke up for the first time. "Aoba-sensei, could you give us a little time to discuss this?"

"In the field, an enemy ninja won't just give you 'time to discuss,'" he said, sounding amused. "But we aren't in the field, and I'm not an enemy, so I'll let this one slide. Five minutes."

He got up from the table and sauntered outside, giving us a little privacy.

There was a moment's silence in which we waited for our teacher to get out of earshot. Once he was, it was like a switch had flipped—Shiho and Yagura immediately started arguing in low, fierce voices.

"Intel over lives? Are you serious!"

"Don't be a dunce," Yagura snapped back. "A single information leak can jeopardize an entire village. In the end it's a numbers game, and one comrade's life is not worth sacrificing thousands of others!"

"So you would just let your friends die like that?"

Yagura's chakra gave a weird little flinch, even though his body didn't move at all. "It doesn't matter if I agree or not," he said, "but it's the answer they want to hear. Aoba-sensei is from Intelligence—do you really think he wouldn't value information?"

"Not more than his team, certainly," Shiho said. "The _backbone_ of Konoha is founded on the concept of teamwork—frankly, it's nearly as prominent a philosophy as our Will of Fire!"

As they continued to volley arguments back and forth, my mind wandered back to the strange message Shiho had decoded. What was it, again? Something about…a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. What did that even mean, anyway? And how exactly did it relate to the three questions asked?

Pondering over these questions, I couldn't help but feel like we were missing something. Something…deeper.

"Shiho, Yagura," I began, but was interrupted by Aoba's cheery voice.

"Time's up!"

He popped back in, and my teammates and I quieted down.

"Have you three decided on an answer?"

Yagura humphed. Shiho shuffled her feet. I wrung my hands.

No one said anything.

"I…guess that's a no, then." Aoba-sensei gave a dramatic sigh. "Come, now, is it that difficult to just choose something? There are only two options, after all. You've got a fifty-fifty chance."

Aoba's chakra quivered and shifted. I blinked and focussed my attention on it.

It felt like a shadow, sliding over the leaves. Shaded with something subtle and sly and…

_False_.

He was lying.

But what was he lying about?

I ran over his words. _Choose something…fifty-fifty chance…two options…_

_Two options_.

My heart beat faster. Did we have, perhaps, a third option?

Quickly, I reviewed the entire test. I thought about how we nearly missed that we had to work together for the first portion. How we almost tripped up again in the second. How none of the problems or questions were as they first seemed, how they were so much more complex than they appeared to be, how they were like—

Like a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

"We have an answer," I said, making up my mind.

"We do?" Yagura muttered.

Shiho shushed him. "Let her talk."

"Go on," Aoba-sensei said. "Which one would you pick?"

For a second I hesitated. Then, hoping that my hunch was right, I said:

"Neither."

Next to me, I could feel Shiho and Yagura sending me strong vibes of _are-you-crazy_ and _what-the-heck-are-you-doing_.

I fidgeted but otherwise tried to ignore them.

"What do you mean by that?" Aoba asked—the way he talked was slow, measured, unreadable.

"It's, um—it's not right," I said, trying to explain. "Judging that protecting a secret is always more important than protecting your comrades, or vise versa—it's—it's too extreme. The circumstances are going to be different for different scenarios—you can't just plug in such a…a _narrow-minded_ view and expect it to work for every situation. And that—that's why…neither option you gave us is the right answer."

My stuttering mess of a speech was followed by a long stretch of silence. Nervous, I began fiddling with my fingers, wondering if I had miscalculated.

Then Aoba-sensei cleared his throat.

"In my division," he began, sounding very serious, "there is something we call the Four Qualities."

"…The Four Qualities, sensei?" Shiho asked, probably wondering what this had to do with anything.

"Yes. Skill, discretion, perception, and judgement. The Four Qualities of a good intelligence agent. There are others, of course, but those four are the main ones.

"Anyway, when we make intelligence-based teams, we look for students who embody these traits. That's why you three were picked—each of you has displayed, consistently, at least one or more of the Four Qualities throughout your Academy years. You were picked because we believed you could succeed."

"I sense a 'but' coming up," Yagura said, when Aoba-sensei paused.

"Well, I'll be honest with you," our teacher said wryly. "I had a few doubts at the start. There were certain…factors about this team that made it less than ideal. _But_, I'm happy to say that you all proved me wrong rather nicely."

I blinked. "So—the test—"

"That's right," he said, his voice growing warm. "You've passed the Four Qualities test. All three of you, congratulations and well done. We're now officially Team Six!"

.

.

.

We continued to stick around the dango shop after Aoba-sensei left. We were a team now, after all—it was only right that we got to know each other better.

Besides, there was something that I wanted to tell them. I'd actually almost forgotten, until Aoba-sensei pointed out the "less than ideal" factors of our team. I had no doubt he was referring to me.

So after Shiho and I ordered some more tea, and Yagura got a stick of dango, we got comfortable around the table and talked. It was formal and a bit stilted at first, but once Shiho and Yagura (grudgingly) apologized to each other for their previous quarrel, conversation became easier.

"So," Shiho said, her voice sly and smug, "according to Aoba-sensei, we were handpicked. Not such a _throwaway_ after all, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah," Yagura grumbled. "Go ahead, say 'I told you so.' I _dare_ you."

"Please don't start this again," I said pleasantly, waving my half-filled teacup in a threatening sort of manner.

Shiho laughed and I smiled and even Yagura let out a reluctant chuckle. We continued eating our food in companionable silence, before I spoke up again.

"Hey guys," I began conversationally. "There's something you should probably know if we're going to be working together…"

.

.

.

"What," said Shiho.

"I guess it does make sense, if you think about it," said Yagura.

"I—you—_what_."

"It explains a lot, too. Like why you never look people in the eye when talking to them. Or how you never seem to have any viable blind spots when sparring."

"What, I don't even—_how_."

"Or how you always bring a tape recorder to lectures, or how you can't perform Clones or Transformations…wow, it's actually really obvious in retrospect. I can't believe no one ever suspected. We're all morons."

"This is, this is so. Omigod. This. _Omigod_."

"Also, your friend is freaking out here. Mind calming her down before she gives herself an aneurysm?"

"It's okay, Shiho," I said, putting what I hoped was a soothing expression on my face. I probably failed, though, since I had no idea what a soothing expression was supposed to look like.

"It's not okay," Shiho insisted. "You're _blind_. You can't _see_. I've been your friend for years and years and _I never knew this_. Years and _years_, Miyo!"

"Um…I'm sorry?"

"And all this time," she continued, bulldozing over my weak apology, "I'd been so concerned over _my_ eyes while _my best friend was blind_—oh _god_ I must have come off as so _insensitive_—"

"It's okay, really," I said.

"How is this in any way okay!"

I tilted my head. "Well, I can get around well enough without my eyes. So I don't really mind."

"Right," she said. "That's another thing—just how _do_ you do that, anyway? Walking around, fighting, and all?"

I considered how to answer this.

"Chakra," I said eventually. "It's everywhere, and I can sense it. You guys have chakra, too. Based on how it feels—intensity, texture, clarity—I can pinpoint how far away you are and where you're standing relative to my position."

"And reading?" Shiho put in, sounding much more collected than before. The cerebral nature of the conversation evidently calmed her. "I know you can, I've seen you read textbooks before."

"Tactile reading," I said. "I make the nerves hypersensitive in my—"

"Fingers, of course," she said. "You always read with your finger…why haven't I ever noticed this?"

"Like I said," Yagura said. "Morons."

"You're not helping," Shiho informed him.

When Yagura only snapped back a terse, sarcastic reply, they quickly dissolved into another argument.

They did that a lot, I noticed.

But it was rather fun to see them argue (figuratively, of course), so I simply settled back and listened as Shiho called Yagura a presumptuous pigheaded pinhead, to which Yagura in return said something about a pot and a kettle.

_I like my team_, I decided as I drained the rest of my tea.

.

.

.

The Akadou family was an old one, having existed prior to the foundation of Konoha. It used to be a lot bigger, too—not big enough to be considered a clan, mind you, but certainly much larger than the current grand total of two.

Since we were an old family, there were certain _attributes_ that had cropped up and evolved—special physical traits that eventually passed down through the generations all the way to Yoroi and me. Our bodies tended to be more adaptive, our chakra systems more malleable and accepting. The traits were subtle and not something as noticeable as, say, the Byakugan or the Sharingan, but they were there nonetheless. And, more importantly, they allowed us to perform the family technique.

Chakra Absorption.

The problem with normal chakra absorption techniques (such as chakra transfusions) was that they were costly and inefficient. You had to first convert the chakra into a "neutral" state, so that the body you were transferring it to—be it yours or someone else's—didn't reject the foreign chakra. And during that conversion stage a lot of the initial chakra is lost…not to mention the massive amount of effort required to convert it in the first place. So unless you were an insanely skilled medical ninja with exceptional chakra control, extensive knowledge of the human body, and a strong will, the costs of chakra absorption outweighed the benefits.

What was special about our technique was that it required a lot of mental fortitude but not a lot of finesse by way of chakra control. It was the unique physique of our bodies, you see—our chakra system automatically assimilated any incoming chakra and adapted itself to fully utilize it. All we had to do was to _mentally_ adapt, since our bodies had the physical part covered.

It was the reason why children in the Akadou family were only taught the technique after they'd graduated and proven themselves mentally ready. Sloppily performed, the technique tended to backfire, and the results weren't very pretty. I'd heard horror stories; multiple personalities, children gone berserk, people turning into vegetables.

That was why I'd only just started learning it, instead of years before like most other clan kids did with their family techniques.

I didn't want to become a vegetable.

It sounded scary.

"Dog seal," my brother said.

I formed a Dog seal. Straight palm, curled fist.

"Snake."

Hands clasped, facing heavenward.

"Tiger."

Index fingers extended, the rest of them folded.

"Now concentrate on your chakra," he commanded.

I obliged, wondering when he had gotten so bossy. Side effect of becoming a chuunin, probably.

"Breathe."

He'd gotten a lot terser, too. And quieter. Ever since—well, ever since…Mom…

"Focus on the areas in your hand," he continued, forcing me out of my morbid thoughts. "Feel your surroundings. Do you feel it?"

"Yes," I said. Everything around me, especially the areas around my hand, had gone into high relief. The flowers and trees in our backyard became streaks of cool fire; the earth vibrated beneath my feet; the ever-present hum in the air had grown stronger. The atmosphere was alive and enthralling. Magnetic.

"You feel the chakra in the atmosphere?"

"Yes."

"Good. You'll sense a pull; don't answer it. Don't even touch it. That's natural energy, and it's very dangerous."

_Natural energy?_

"Toads?" I said, for some reason.

"…What?"

"Um, nothing." I quickly shook it off; now was not the time to be distracted.

"Right," Yoroi said. "We start easy. Put your hands on mine. Hands are the simplest point of access; the chakra flow is greater. And we're related, so the mental strain will be lessened. Family is always the easiest."

I put my hands over my brother's, and immediately felt the call of his chakra. It was teeming. He had a lot more chakra than I did, and his hands were like a massive intersection on a highway of energy.

"Now pull," he said.

I pulled.

The chakra came, swift and easy, sliding through like strings of butter. I felt the weird sensation of my chakra system changing ever so slightly, adapting to the foreign energy. Then I sensed something light and heavy and odd and familiar all at the same time, and I realized it was the spiritual portion of Yoroi's chakra.

This was the hard part.

With all the willpower I could muster, I pressed down on the spiritual energy, pushing, prodding, pressing, _willing_ it to conform, to match, to be assimilated.

After a long struggle, it happened. My will overpowered it, resonated too strongly, too deeply, and the energy just sort of dissolved and merged into mine.

"Five minutes," said Yoroi. "Not bad for the first time."

"Is it always so tiring?" I asked, slumped over in the grass. Physically, I was great; mentally, I was drained.

"It gets better," he assured me. "After, you know, lots of practice."

I sighed and rolled over. Yoroi patted my shoulder.

"We'll continue this later," he said, with a trace of apology. "Right now, I've got a mission to get to."

.

.

.

"Remind me why we're doing this again," said Yagura.

"Because Miyo has an idea and I trust her," said Shiho.

"Well, yes, but five seconds ago we were kind of—you know—on a mission."

"We still are," Shiho pointed out.

"My point exactly."

"Mind telling me what you three are up to?" Aoba-sensei said, ambling alongside us. "Just because I gave you guys free reign over this one mission doesn't mean you get to run all over the place and do whatever the heck you want. Just so you know."

I smiled.

"Matatabi," I said, by way of explanation.

"Ah," said Shiho.

"Clever," agreed Aoba.

"What?" said Yagura.

"We're here," I said, turning right onto a smaller path that led to my home. "Wait a second, please."

I entered the house and exited through the side door into the garden. There, I gathered what I needed and headed back out.

"Let's go," I said cheerfully, before turning right to continue down the road.

"Um, Miyo," Shiho called. "Naka Forest is in the other direction."

I paused. "Oh. I knew that."

I spun around and continued in the other direction, just as cheerfully as before.

"Right," Yagura said, once we were back on the main road. "Now can someone please tell me what's going on?"

.

.

.

Tora rubbed herself all over me, her body pretzeling into all sorts of bizarre shapes.

"I think it likes you," Yagura said dryly.

"Yes," I agreed, as the cat mewled drowsily and twisted around my legs like a vine on a trellis. A very happy, intoxicated vine on a trellis.

"It was a clever idea," Aoba-sensei said, pleased. "Almost no effort expended, and very effective, too. Everything happened just as planned."

"Although you could have told me what the plan was _before_ the crazy cat came careening at us like a rocket," Yagura said. "I almost impaled it."

"Frankly, it's a good thing you didn't," Shiho said, "or we'd have some explaining to do to the Fire Daimyou's wife. Come on, mission complete. Let's go."

I picked up the violently purring ball of cat and followed my team back to the Mission Assignment Desk at the Ninja Academy. Madam Shijimi was ecstatic over the return of her lost cat and immediately began to strangle Tora with her deadly show of love. The cat squirmed a little but overall didn't seem to mind being affectionately throttled.

But then again, who knew. Catnip did some very strange things to felines, and Tora, it seemed, was no exception.

.

.

.

* * *

**A/N:**

And so the chapter concludes. Miyo gets her team, Yagura* is introduced, Aoba is promoted from "extra" to "somewhat major character", Tora the Cat is tamed, and the first glimmerings of a plot begin to take shape.

Sorry if the genin test portion felt tedious, by the way. I wanted to flesh out the characters a bit, but then it got longer and longer and longer…. I actually had to cut out some parts, because it had _really_ started to drag.

Minor notes and references:

The "riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma" thing is of course a reference to the famous quote by Winston Churchill. I put it in there because I thought it fit the "underneath the underneath" theme rather well.

The catnip idea was inspired from another story entitled _Who Dares, Wins _by Fox Sannin's Concept Corner.

There's also a very obscure and convoluted pun concerning Tenten's chosen last name: the Chinese version of the characters in Tenten's name is pronounced "tian" (heaven) which is a homophone for "tian" (field). Incidentally, "Tanaka" means "(dweller in the) middle of rice fields."

*Yagura is the super minor character from chapter 5 (cypress, _death_). An OC in all but name, he's a character I shamelessly stole from anime episode 195 (in which he is ostensibly introduced but technically never makes an appearance). Any similarity/connection/relevance to the Fourth Mizukage is purely coincidental.

And...that is it, I believe. See you guys later, once this hiatus is over.


	8. pimpernel

**A/N:**

Wow. I can't believe I actually managed to get this one out. Longest chapter yet, too. It's a miracle. A...New Year's miracle, or something. Hiatus is still in effect, by the way. Next chapter probably won't arrive until...much later. Apologies.

Slight deviance in style. Lots of POV flipping. This chapter's a bit of an interlude sort of thing.

Hope you folks enjoy.

The White Camellia:

You asked a bunch of questions that I suspect may have been rhetorical, especially considering that you have the PM function disabled. Nevertheless, I will answer them on the off chance that they were honest questions. Because I'm awkwardly literal like that.

Plot is slowly creeping in. Nothing heavy yet, but I've been dropping vague hints here and there. As I've discussed with another reader, this is a "For Want of a Nail" kind of story (the nail being, of course, Miyo's reincarnation) and I want to show that ripples are indeed being spread, but in a discreet way so that the butterfly effect will have a more devastating impact when all the changes slowly converge. I'll be pointing at a few ripples in particular in this chapter, as you may have already guessed from its title.

Hmm, I haven't given much thought to Miyo's favorite tree. Though, thinking about it, oak is definitely a possibility. Or better yet, a Hashirama tree. Those things are pretty awesome.

Yes, I do know about multiple meanings. Makes things a bit tricky, which was part of the reason why I include the meaning below the flower name in chapter titles, so that there's no confusion. I may be omitting a few words as well; for example, "pimpernel" instead of "scarlet pimpernel," which has connotations that aren't really relevant to the chapter. Another (pettier) reason is that I think single-word titles are more aesthetically pleasing than multiple-word ones. Because I'm weird and finicky like that.

* * *

**Little Acorn**

.

-8-

pimpernel

_change_

.

.

.

It was a lovely Saturday morning. Squirrels chattered back and forth, as was their daily routine; the overhead trees rustled and sighed and stretched their creaking limbs; somewhere in the vibrant foliage, the crooning soliloquy of a mourning dove could be heard. It was soothing. A quiet symphony of nature.

"Morning, Miyo-chan!" Naruto said (_bellowed_), and the sweet illusion of peace was thus shattered. I pulled my face in a semblance of a smile and fought the urge to cover my ears. It was something I found myself doing a lot in Naruto's presence.

It was just the two of us today. Shiho had begged off from our usual gardening session, saying she had to do...something. I wasn't sure what. But Shiho wasn't the flighty type I was certain that it had to be something pretty important.

Either way, I missed Shiho and her no-nonsense, down-to-earth personality. Without her mitigating presence, Naruto's chatter seemed ten times louder than it usually did. It didn't help that he was particularly temperamental today—we had only just begun to water the geraniums and he was already blasting off on a rant.

"He's always trying to act cool, always trying to make me look bad—"

I made an agreeable noise in the back of my throat as I moved on from the geraniums to the goldenrod. The goldenrod seed heads were coated in the wispy fluff that was so characteristic for aster plants. I brushed the downy tips with an experimental finger and smiled—the plants were just about ready for seed harvesting. Making a note to myself to harvest them later, I moved on to the pots of rosemary.

All the while, Naruto's rant buzzed at the edge of my attention like a bothersome gnat.

"—dunno what people see in him—thinks he's better than everyone, that bast—"

"Naruto," I said.

"But Miyo, you didn't see him! If you did, you'd totally agree with me! He's just too much of a b—of a jerk!"

I paused in my inspection of the rosemary. Then, feeling like I was prodding a sleeping dragon, I asked, "Who are you talking about, exactly?"

The sheer indignation that Naruto projected could have powered entire villages.

"Weren't you listening?" he demanded. "I'm talking about that idiot _Sasuke_!" His voice, incapable of portraying the extent of his outrage, broke on the 'a' of 'Sasuke.' And then, as if unable to fully express his frustration through vocal means, he waved his arms around like an angry octopus. The flailing limbs knocked over a pot of rosemary, which in turn rolled over and crushed a nearby strawberry plant.

"_Naruto_," I said, appalled at the senseless violence. I rushed over to the unfortunate strawberry plant, but found to my dismay that many of the not-yet-ripe berries had not escaped unscathed.

"Ah! I'm sorry!" Naruto cried as I poked mournfully at the squashed berries.

"You murdered my strawberries," I said, swiveling around.

"It's not my fault! I was—I mean, Sasuke, if he didn't make me so mad—"

Oh no. He was _not_ going to weasel his way out of this one. Especially not by shoving the blame onto someone I didn't even know, this Sasuke fellow, whoever he was—

_Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke._

I stopped and frowned. Uchiha. He was the famed survivor of the massacre? But...how did I know that? No one ever told me the survivor's name; I never asked (some strange, guilty part of me didn't want to know). And Naruto never said anything about Sasuke being an Uchiha. Maybe I heard it somewhere in passing, and subconsciously recognized it—

_Fistful of lightning. Pinwheel eyes. Snakes and betrayal and revenge and traitor traitor traitor—_

Wide eyes. Sharp intake of breath. I almost stumbled.

Naruto was still talking, hands moving in wide arcs, quick and animated gesticulations. He seemed like something from far away. A fish floating through viscous waters. An insect caught in amber. He was frozen to me.

But the world was hanging. I had to ask.

"Naruto, what's Sasuke's family name?" My calmness surprised myself.

"Eh? Oh, it's something stupid, like a fan...Uchiwa?"

With slow, deliberate movements, I righted the fallen rosemary plant. "Uchiha Sasuke?"

"Yeah, that's it. Why?"

Why, indeed. I wasn't entirely sure myself. But if there was one thing I learned, it was that my gut was rarely wrong. The only problem was voicing my instincts, making them heard without seeming weird or stupid.

"Just...be careful of him," I said, haltingly. "He's...I don't think...just be careful."

"Uh, okay," Naruto said, and I could tell he did not understand. I did not blame him. I didn't fully understand, myself.

We went back to work. It wasn't long before I registered a familiar chakra presence approaching, slipping through the bars of the gate. I tilted my head. How odd. Wasn't that—?

The chakra bristled and the presence _moved_.

And then it was chaos.

"Arrgh! Get it off!"

I blinked. Naruto struggled. Tora yowled.

The next few moments were spent trying to remove Tora the Cat from Naruto's hair. It seemed that Tora, unsatisfied with her courtly life in the loving arms of the Daimyou's wife, had opted to sneak out again. Only this time, it was to my garden instead of Naka Forest. Not a very wise decision, since my presence pretty much guaranteed Tora a swift return...although, I suspected that the cat's choice in hideaway had little to do with pragmatism, and a lot to do with the stalks of catnip that lined my garden fence.

In the end, I lured the crazed feline off Naruto's head with generous offerings of catnip. Then the two of us headed over to the Academy and deposited the violently purring cat in the arms of a startled chuunin. We even got paid, a little. Madam Shijimi was quite generous.

Despite the money, it was clear that Naruto wasn't very happy. He complained all the way back from the Academy to my garden.

I listened politely, at least until we got back. Then I pointed at the strawberries and told him it was karma.

.

.

.

Somewhere in Hot Water Country, a kunoichi was making her way northeast.

"I can't believe you did that."

The kunoichi rolled her eyes as she sped through the trees. "Would you drop it, already?"

"Absolutely not. It was a severe violation of privacy."

"In case you've forgotten, it was your idea in the first place."

"My _idea_ was to secure a favor. Not to indulge in the senseless whims of that ridiculous woman. Could you have not bargained for something less demeaning?"

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm not exactly familiar with your culture, and her request seemed harmless, so I didn't think you'd care either way." A sullen note crawled into her tone as she added, "And it's not like _you_ ever tell _me_ anything."

He gave a haughty sniff. "That is another matter entirely. Surely you can't expect me to trust you after that little display with the Hyuu—"

"That was years ago!"

"Perhaps, but even now you are still too impulsive. Knowledge is power; power is dangerous. If you cannot handle it, then I will simply keep it to myself."

She scowled. "I can handle knowledge perfectly fine."

"I'm sure_,_" he said, but the sarcastic drawl suggested otherwise.

"I'm a ninja," she insisted. "I'm capable of keeping secrets. And if there's any 'knowledge' you're keeping that may help the village, I need to know."

He laughed then, a long vibrating rumble that made her neck tingle with unease.

"Oh, but my dear," he said, voice rolling into a deep purr. "This matter goes far, far beyond that puny village of yours."

.

.

.

When Tenten was young, she opened her eyes and saw that the world was unfair.

She remembered a time when her most desperate desire was to become as strong and skilled as the legendary Tsunade. How she struggled to tame her chakra, how she despaired, because medical techniques required a razor-thin control and it was something she just did not have. It was not fair, how her best friend could wield chakra with careless ease, and yet did not show the slightest interest in becoming a medic-nin. Unfair, how she had everything Tenten wanted except for the inclination to use it.

She remembered, too, a time when she'd been at the top of the class in taijutsu. No one in the class could match her fierce enthusiasm, her hard work and raw talent for coordination and _movement._ But then adolescence crept up from the dark, and her ranking shuddered and dipped. It was not fair, how boys had muscle growth programmed into their bodies, how she suddenly had to work so much harder to excel in strength and in speed.

Most recently, she remembered waiting in anticipation for team arrangements, hoping against hope she'd be placed with—but no, Miyo had gone off with that Shiho girl (_replacement_, her mind whispered cruelly) and _she'd _been stuck with her worst enemy.

_It's not fair_, she had wailed to herself as she followed her deranged jounin instructor out the door.

_Suck it up_, her inner voice had replied. _Life's not fair_.

It was with this sentiment that she realized that, forget the Academy, there was no way she'd ever stand out in taijutsu on a team of taijutsu monsters. Yes, she could outstrip Lee, but how long would that last, given his dedication? And it wasn't even Lee that bothered her; what _really_ rankled was that she'd never be able to beat that smirking Hyuuga's face in, especially now that he was allowed to use the Gentle Fist during spars.

So she improvised. She obviously couldn't match Neji in taijutsu, so she simply had to find something that she was better at. It was not long before she discovered her affinity for fuuinjutsu, the sealing techniques.

That was why early Saturday morning found her in her room, hunched over a small roll of sealing paper with a brush, several sticks of ink, and an ink slab. The Four Treasures of the Study.

Tenten was excited. After weeks of studying the theory and practicing calligraphy, she felt she was finally ready to create her own explosive tags.

Her storage scroll (borrowed from Uncle Kenji) was working perfectly. She'd been practicing storage release and weapons coordination, which was nearly up to par. All she needed now was the explosive ammunition, since it was too expensive for Uncle Kenji to provide her with the amount she'd envisioned. And if she could get over this hurdle, then she'd have secured herself a reliable and inexpensive way to acquire explosives—something she very much needed if her most recent combat idea was to be viable at all.

In smooth, deft motions, Tenten's brush traced out the central kanji—the keystone of the seal.

爆

_Baku_.

Explode.

There were other details, of course. Range, intensity, duration. These she outlined with meticulous concentration, making certain not to blot the ink or scatter any wayward drops. Once the design was completed to her satisfaction, she breathed a sigh of relief, nodded to herself, and went outside to the training grounds to test it.

"Kai," she said, hands wrapped in a Snake seal, tense with anticipation. The quick burst of directed chakra triggered the tag, and Tenten waited for the response with baited breath.

The tag did not disappoint. A bulb of red-hot fire bloomed into existence, wreathed in smoke, billowing out like a flower. Wild, blazing,_ beautiful_.

Tenten grinned.

_Perfect._

She thought about Neji and her smile turned a tad vicious. There would be a team sparring session on Tuesday, and by then she would be ready. See how his precious Gentle Fist fared against _this_.

Three days later, Team Three temporarily split up. Tenten was running punishment laps around Konoha. Lee, torn between awe and fear, was discreetly avoiding her. Neji was in the hospital.

.

.

.

There was a time when Yagura had older siblings. Not through familial connections, mind you, but siblings in a more fundamental sense. At Nishimura's Orphanage for Prospective Ninja, they were all brothers and sisters.

Yagura watched his older siblings attend the Academy. He watched them struggle to train their minds and bodies. He watched them graduate, smiling and pointing at their new forehead protectors in pride.

He watched them fail their genin tests. Every single one of them.

(_The tests are rigged, how else would it make any sense—_)

His siblings weren't field genin, but they were still technically ninja—the forehead protectors said as much. And so Yagura watched as his older siblings were whisked off to various stations in satellite towns. Unlike field genin, these graduates didn't get any fancy jounin instructors. No, what they got was an overworked chuunin in charge of whatever station they'd been assigned to.

This satellite town thing was a mutual relationship. The towns would receive the protection of ninja; in return, Konoha would receive a steady stream of income. For the ninja involved, it was like a protection mission, except that it lasted forever, and that the ninja in question were a lot less experienced than they should be. Then again, it was economically efficient that way. Why send experienced ninja to faraway outposts when high-profile missions were so much more profitable? As for education—wasn't it more sensible to allocate jounin resources towards actual genin than mere graduates? And if there were casualties, then, well. _They're just graduates. Easily replaced._

A young Yagura was practicing kata in the orphanage yard when the message came that a band of missing-nin had attacked one of the outposts. After that, Yagura didn't have older siblings anymore.

They were all the same. Wasn't it only natural that Yagura follow in their footsteps? After all, he was a "talentless nobody" like the rest of the children at that dinky little orphanage. Vastly inferior to the kids in his class who had powerful clan names at their backs—Hyuuga, Aburame, Sarutobi. So wasn't it only natural that he failed as well?

But he didn't. Surprising and completely counter-intuitive, but...he didn't.

Even now, as he headed over to the dango shop for a team meeting, he could scarcely believe it.

Then the cheerful blue sign of the dango shop swept into view, and Yagura mentally slapped himself. Now was not the time for pondering over things that could have been. Focus on the present for now. He could brood later, when he was back at his apartment.

Yagura entered the shop, eyes scanning the tables. Aoba-sensei wasn't there yet. Unsurprising, since he was usually about five minutes late for everything. Shiho wasn't there either, which was strange since the annoying girl usually made a point to be annoyingly early for everything. With Aoba and Shiho gone, the only one who _was_ there was Miyo.

"Hi," said Miyo when he reached her table. The girl seemed to be...stacking napkins. For whatever reason.

"Hi," he echoed, eyeing the pyramid of napkins rather dubiously.

As if sensing his gaze, Miyo gave him a vague smile and said earnestly, "They're paper cranes."

Yagura squinted. Upon closer inspection, the napkins _did_ have a certain shape about them. Although they looked more like dying insects than paper cranes.

"They're the only thing I know how to fold," Miyo continued in a hushed whisper, as if confiding in him some terrible secret.

"I...see," he said, effectively killing the conversation.

Silence reigned supreme for the next minute and a half. Then:

"Oh, I ripped his head off."

She held the mangled crumple of paper out for him to see. Yagura stared.

"That's unfortunate," he managed.

"Would you like it?" Miyo said, giving the monstrosity in her hand a little shake.

_Is she serious?_

"...Yes," he said. "Yes, I've always wanted a headless crane."

Miyo happily deposited the piece of junk in his hand. It seemed that she wasn't very familiar with Sarcasm. Which was unfortunate, really. He would have to remember to introduce the two sometime.

He pocketed the crane.

Five minutes passed and their teammate and instructor still weren't here. Yagura sighed and watched as Miyo ran out of napkins to mutilate. Another minute crawled by, during which Yagura stared at the wall with a rigid kind of determination. Across from him, Miyo sat and fidgeted, occasionally relocating the cranes to various locations on the wooden table. By some unspoken Law of Awkward, the two of the them decided to wait for their remaining team members in silence.

_Any day now_, Yagura thought, as he stared at the same crack he'd been looking at for six minutes straight. _Just go ahead and take your time, beloved teammates. It's not like we're waiting or anything._

"So, uh," Miyo finally said, in a valiant attempt to start up conversation. "That weather today."

Yagura tore his gaze away from the wall and gave her a long, slow stare. Honestly. Of _all_ the possible conversation starters in the world._  
_

"It's very...nice...isn't it," she continued feebly.

His eyes flicked toward the shop's entrance. An ominous, dark sky frowned back at him.

"Beautiful," he said flatly.

Yagura the Conversation Killer. That was him.

Miyo deflated. Shrunk in on herself. Come to think of it, she was rather tame for someone who went around slinging hot tea at people. And she did a rather admirable impression of a sad, pale turtle. Yagura watched her fidget for all of ten seconds before sighing and taking pity on her.

"You're right," he said. "It's lovely weather. I think I'll go on a picnic later."

The girl stopped fidgeting. "Picnic?"

"Yes," he drawled. "When you go outside to eat with cutesy little blankets and baskets and such. It's an ancient practice that people call a picnic."

She blinked and took a while to process that. "No, no—I mean it's just that...you don't seem like a picnicky kind of person."

Big sigh.

Miyo. Meet Sarcasm.

"On the contrary. I'm a _very_ picnicky person. The picnickiest person you'll ever meet. It's my passion. It consumes me. It burns my soul and scorches my marrow."

The corners of her mouth tugged up. Ah, she was finally getting it.

"That doesn't sound very healthy," she noted.

"It's culture. It's not supposed to be healthy."

"...Maybe you should take it easy on the picnics."

"Thank you, your unprofessional opinion means a lot to me."

She looked tentatively amused. "Shiho would agree with me, you know."

"Shiho isn't here yet," he countered.

"Sorry I'm late," Shiho said as she burst into the shop, proving that she had the worst timing in the world.

Speak of the devil and she doth appear? _Or not_, Yagura thought as he peered at Miyo suspiciously. Her somewhat knowing smile had "I knew she was coming, in your face" written all over it.

"I hope you guys weren't waiting too long," Shiho said.

Yagura sighed—turned—had a sarcastic comment ready in an instant—but it died on his tongue when he saw her face.

_What. In. The._

_What._

There had to be something wrong, some bizarre malfunction in the inner workings of the universe, because Yuuhi Shiho was not wearing her glasses.

"Not one word," she warned, when Yagura opened his mouth to ask the obvious. Her red eyes narrowed into a crimson-ringed glare, and—surprise, surprise—it was actually kind of scary.

"Shiho?" Miyo asked, confused.

"It's nothing," Shiho assured the blind girl, who didn't seem very convinced.

Nonetheless, Miyo let it go. It was clear that Shiho was searching for some form of acceptance, of ease and normalcy. Miyo gave it to her. After a contemplative pause, Yagura did the same.

Then Aoba came. The jounin only ever came after all three had gathered, come to think of it. Perhaps it was deliberate. A calculated effort to build team unity. Goodness knew Yagura could use all the help he could in that department. Even after two weeks of observation, he barely understood his teammates at all.

Then Aoba went on to make a fool out of himself in front of that scandalously-clad kunoichi who liked to frequent the dango shop, and Yagura thought that maybe he was overestimating their sensei.

.

.

.

Southeast of Konoha, far across the rolling dunes of Wind Country, was a rugged, sand-crusted village.

Harsh diamond-cut starkness. Rough sand-whittled stone. Survival of the fittest.

This was Suna.

Here, the desert nights offered little variety. Always cold and chill and unmerciful. Tonight would have been a night like any other, if it weren't for the full moon that shone in the sleek darkness.

A boy perched on a silver rooftop. Pale moonlight rolled off his brow, highlighting unblemished skin and tangles of red hair. He would not sleep, not tonight. It would be too dangerous. When the moon ripened, the Other lost itself. He had to stay awake if he wanted to ensure their continued existence. Sleeping would only be a mistake, would only drag them both down into the depths of madness.

He had glimpsed madness before, as a child. He never wanted to walk that twisted road again.

The Other told him things. Why the full moon became a siren's call to them. It said that it was the weakest, that their barrier was thinnest. It said that it was a fragment caught in the gravity of a larger whole, that its brethren could resist the pull because they were larger. Stronger.

He was...confused. The Other's ramblings were sinuous and evasive. He didn't understand, though he suspected that the Other was hiding something from him.

It was natural, he supposed. His siblings called the Other names like _Shukaku _and _demon_. They worried over him; they told him not to trust it. He would have laughed if his demeanor had allowed for it. He wasn't an idiot. Of course he wasn't going to trust it. But while the Other was many things, he did not believe that it was a demon.

Wind blew, tousling his hair. Like a slow, meticulous hawk, he swept his gaze over the silent village.

This place...was not good for him. He'd protect it for now, as was his duty. But not forever.

One day he'd leave.

When the time was right.

When he was strong enough.

.

.

.

"You," Tatami Iwashi said, pointing at his teammate with an accusing finger.

Akadou Yoroi blinked at him. Or at least, Iwashi thought he blinked at him. It was pretty hard to tell with those weird, templeless, bridgeless shades.

"Iwashi," Yoroi said. "It's rude to point, you know."

"Don't play stupid! I know what you did!"

Yoroi simply stared at him. Or at least, Iwashi thought he was staring. Darn shades.

"You," Iwashi said slowly, because apparently his idiot teammate needed it spelled out for him, "turned down. The promotion." He paused for that to sink in, and then repeated it because Yoroi's face continued to look blank. "You turned down the promotion!"

"I heard it the first time, you know."

"_Why _would you turn down a promotion!"

A sigh. "Iwashi—"

"I mean, as _elite_ chuunin we already make a decent amount of money but just think about the paycheck for a special jounin! I thought you had a kid sister or something? What happened to 'supporting the family'?"

Yoroi looked irritated. Or at least, Iwashi thought he looked irritated. It was hard to tell because Yoroi never looked very happy anyway. The last time he remembered seeing his teammate smile was a few months back when he entered the Akadou residence without knocking and encountered a small, angry-looking girl chasing her brother with a spatula. But even then, Yoroi's smile had quickly morphed into a frown as he demanded Iwashi to "get out of my damn house, dammit," looking surprisingly intimidating for a guy wearing nothing but baby blue pajamas and bunny slippers.

...Anyway. He was getting sidetracked. And Yoroi was saying something.

"..._for_ Miyo that I'm doing this, you know."

"I don't quite follow," Iwashi said, giving no indication that he'd been zoning out.

Yoroi leveled him with a flat look (as far as Iwashi could tell). "If I'd have accepted the promotion," he said, his voice matching his expression, "I would have specialized in espionage."

Iwashi stopped.

Oh.

_Oh._

Espionage. Infiltration. Spy work. Notoriously dangerous, and difficult, and disheartening. Missions could last for _years_ on end.

"It'd crush her," Iwashi murmured.

Yoroi nodded. "I'm sorry, Iwashi. I know you've been looking forward to...well, I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to look inconsiderate," Iwashi hastened to finish. "It's okay. I get you. Don't worry about me; I—well, my promotion will come when it comes."

"Yeah."

Iwashi glanced awkwardly to the side, feeling like an insensitive jerk. At this rate...well, an immediate subject change was in order.

"So," he began as casually as he could, which wasn't very casual at all. There was a reason it was Yoroi, not him, who was the one specializing in espionage. "How's Misumi? I hear that the Chuunin Exam results came out this morning. Did he...?"

"No," said Yoroi, and damn it, this was not making Iwashi feel any better.

"Oh. But wasn't this his...?"

"Fifth time."

"...Maybe we should go visit him."

Yoroi shook his head. "You know, lately he's been acting...well, I don't think he's been very happy with us. I'm not sure a visit would be very well-recieved."

"Come on, we're his teammates. Cheer him up, right? Sixth time's the charm?"

"I just get the feeling that..." Yoroi trailed off. "Never mind, you're right. We're teammates. Let's go."

And so they went. Thankfully, Misumi didn't chase them out with torches and pitchforks. Nonetheless, there was an awkward tension in the air no amount of laughter or small talk could break, and in the end Iwashi was left with the opinion that maybe they shouldn't have gone at all.

It didn't help that throughout the entire meeting, he kept getting the feeling that Misumi hated their guts.

.

.

.

Some clans had huge, fancy compounds where everyone was clumped together in one big happy family. These clans were living, breathing embodiments of unity. The proud, hardcore united-we-stand-divided-we-fall types. Occasionally, the you'll-bring-honor-to-us-all types.

The Yuuhi clan was not this clan.

It was a loose, confused tangle of apartments scattered across several neighborhoods. Very large, but more disconnected than unified. Perhaps it was this lack of connection that held it back; the Yuuhi, after all, had never been terribly prominent.

Yet, despite this, the clan _had_ produced a few outstanding individuals.

Case in point: Yuuhi Kazuki. He had been the clan's shining star. A minor celebrity, all things considered. He clawed his way up the ranks with nothing but an old sword, some self-crafted genjutsu, and elbow grease. When he passed his Jounin Exam, the entire clan celebrated in a rare display of unity—for Kazuki was the first Yuuhi to make jounin. His death in the Kyuubi attack was a blow, and the entire clan attended his funeral to pay respects.

Yuuhi Kurenai had, in some ways, surpassed even her father. As a ninja, she was quick on her feet, perceptive, intelligent, creative—a master of the illusionary arts. Her progress in the ranks were nothing to scoff at either. Genin at nine, chuunin at thirteen, and soon-to-be jounin—at least, that was what people were saying. Everyone was looking forward to seeing the results of her exam. If she passed, she'd be the youngest jounin in Yuuhi history.

After these two, it had been decided by some mass, implicit agreement that genjutsu would be the clan's claim to fame. Now was an especially apt time, with the Uchiha out of the way (as callous as that sounded), because Konoha _needed_ its illusionists. The Yuuhi would be the ones to step up and fill the gaps.

If Kurenai passed, it would be more than a single promotion. No, it would be a promotion for the entire clan. A statement—a _promise—_that the Yuuhi clan was not to be underestimated any longer.

Like the rest of her family, Shiho understood this very well. That was why, when Kurenai _did_ pass, Shiho cheered as loudly as the rest of them even though she didn't particularly _like_ the woman.

"Congratulations," Shiho said to Kurenai at the family celebration.

"Thank you," the newly minted jounin said, before smiling and adding, "I see you've taken off the glasses, Shiho-chan. You look lovely."

Shiho almost twitched. She didn't expect Kurenai to remember her; they'd only met a few times in passing. Internally, Shiho sighed. Kurenai was just too freaking _nice_, and darn it, it made it _hard_ to dislike her.

"Doesn't she?" Yuuhi Ibu cut in. This time Shiho _did_ twitch. "She always wore those silly glasses, no one could make her take them off—I'm so glad she's finally growing up and taking things seriously...I think it's _your_ good influence, I don't know if you know this but she really looks up to you as a role model, talks about you all the time at home—"_  
_

"Dad," Shiho mumbled under her breath. Her father, being a librarian, was not in possession of super ninja hearing and thus did not notice. But Kurenai did, and she shot a sympathetic glance at Shiho while Ibu continued to ramble.

"—and well, actually, I was thinking—maybe if you had a bit of spare time, you could, ah, give my daughter a few pointers—like, a family bonding thing, aunt to niece?"

"Cousins," Kurenai said impassively. Her mother Akane and Shiho's mother Hoshi were sisters. But no one liked to mention Hoshi. Her affair was a bit of a sore point for the family.

"Right," Ibu said, snapping his fingers. "Cousin to cousin—maybe some tips on genjutsu? Shiho here's very smart, already making her own techniques—how many was it, Shiho-chan? Four? Five?"

Kurenai's eyebrows went up.

"Frankly...it's a work in progress," Shiho said to the floor.

"Eh, yes, you see, that's why—wouldn't it be nice if Kurenai-nee-san helped you out a bit? If it's not too much trouble, of course."

Kurenai glanced back and forth between father to daughter. She seemed to be deep in thought.

"Alright," she finally said. "I can try to make some time."

Ibu—a broad-shouldered man with deep-set red eyes—beamed. It was a bit of a frightening sight.

Shiho fought the urge to bury her face in her hands.

.

.

.

The soft firelight flickered—a tiny, vibrant dancer in the watery night. A man sat alone by the fire in silence. Nearby, two people—both male; one older and larger, one younger and slimmer—observed him.

The slim one—the boy—gestured uneasily. "You are sure he is not a hunter-nin?"

The larger man narrowed his eyes. "He's a missing-nin, alright. There were hunter-nin chasing him."

"It could have been an act."

"It wasn't an act."

"How do you know?"

"Instinct," the larger man growled out. "When you get to my caliber, you'll understand. The real question is, what's his motive?"

"Customary etiquette calls for face to face conversation, if you must talk about me. All this behind-the-back business is terribly rude."

They tensed. The man sitting by the fire had half-turned toward them, his slit yellow eyes watching them carefully.

"What are you doing here?" the larger man said, bluntly. "Did the Fourth try to have you murdered as well?"

A grim smile, darkened with the flickering firelight shadows, played about the man's pale face. "Something like that."

"...Fair enough. But you haven't answered my first question. What are you doing here?"

The newcomer stood up. The larger man did not outwardly react, but the boy shifted into a semi-threatening fighting stance. He moved in front of the larger man protectively, sleeves hiding senbon.

"That all depends, _Demon_," the slit-eyed man said, unconcerned about the show of hostility.

Said "Demon" tightened his jaw. "On what?"

"On how well you and your friends can handle _real_ demons."

.

.

.

Team Six had decent teamwork. Meaning they could work together. Rather well, in fact. If Aoba squinted he could maybe even call them friends.

Unfortunately, when it came to any form of combat...they kind of sucked.

"Right, today's training exercise," Aoba said cheerily that afternoon. "Retrieve these tickets"—he waved the movie tickets in their faces before stashing them in his hip pouch—"and you guys get a treat. As a handicap, the only technique I'll use is the Substitution. You have an hour. If you want to succeed"—he grinned to himself in anticipation; he'd _always _wanted to say this—"_then you must come at me with the intent to kill_."

He beamed at his genin's stunned faces and then held up his watch. "Time starts now. Ta-ta!"

And so the exercise commenced. Which brought them to where they were now...

"Over there! Over there!" Miyo said frantically, pointing at the tree branch where Aoba had concealed himself.

Shiho flung several kunai; they were at an odd angle, obviously calculated to drive him down the branch. Indulgently, Aoba leapt down, and was immediately tackled by Yagura. Or so they thought.

"Got him," Yagura said, just as Miyo cried out, "He Substituted!"

As if on cue, what appeared to be Aoba poofed into a log. Ah, the hallmark of the Kawarimi, the Substitution technique. Technically the pre-cut log wasn't at all necessary—it did require an annoying amount of preparation, and some ninja deemed it too much of a hassle—but Aoba, like most, appreciated the beauty of messing with people's heads. The identical expressions (part irritation, part disbelief) on two of his genin's faces were _glorious_.

His third genin, on the other hand...well, more's the pity. But that sensory ability was going to be _interesting._

"Over there!"

"Get him!"

"Gotcha—"

"That's—"

_Poof_.

"Oh, _honestly_!"

"If it didn't work once, it's not gonna work again~" Aoba sang, and then quickly performed another Substitution to avoid an angry fleet of shuriken. He reappeared behind a nearby tree.

"Guys," came Yagura's flat voice. "Time out."

"Time out?" Miyo said, panting a little. From his hiding place behind a tree trunk, Aoba tsked. Out of breath already? Not good, he was going to have to whip her into shape. They may specialize in intelligence but they still needed to be able to fight for long periods of time. They still needed _stamina_.

"We can't time out," Shiho said, sounding a little tired, but less so than Miyo. "We have little more than ten minutes left, we can't just _time out, _we spent almost an hour just trying to _touch_ him."

Yagura snorted. "Yeah, and if you haven't noticed, we haven't been doing so hot on that either. Look, we need a new plan of attack. I call strategic retreat."

At this point, Aoba decided that it couldn't hurt to indulge in his immature side once in a while. And so he started making obnoxious ticking noises with his mouth.

"He's not even taking us seriously," Miyo said glumly.

As if to emphasize this, Aoba stuck out his arms from behind the tree trunk and imitated the movement of a clock's hands. The ticking noises continued.

"...Ignore him. He's trying to distract us."

Clever boy. Yagura had always been one of the sharper ones, able to think on his feet. Still...

"You wound me, Yagura-kun," Aoba proclaimed. "I have no such evil intentions in my heart!"

His words only met silence. Eyebrow raised, Aoba peered around the trunk. It seemed that the three had bolted. _Ah well_, he thought, leaping over to a random tree. _Ten minutes won't be long._

Allowing himself a leisurely pace, he walked up the trunk, settled on the branch, and waited to see what his students came up with.

Five minutes passed before the first genin moved. A flash of dull-blonde hair, black and white and blue—Shiho was skulking around. What was she doing? Trying to take him by surprise? Well, she wasn't doing a very good job. Shiho seemed to realize it, too, because at the seven-minute mark, the occasional traces of blonde-black-white-blue disappeared.

No one moved for a little while, but he _could _see a suspicious Miyo-shaped outline lying perpendicular to an adjacent tree trunk. Aoba made a note to educate the girl on taking into account the position of the sun. Just because _she_ couldn't see shadows didn't mean others couldn't.

They were stretching into the eight-minute mark when something happened. Namely, Aoba was idly watching Miyo attempt to sneak towards him when all of a sudden the girl let out a little yip and shot upside-down into the air.

Huh. Traps. So that was what Shiho was doing. Well, while the ability of rigging working traps in such a short time while remaining mostly unseen was commendable, accidentally getting teammates caught in said traps was not. True, the snare seemed fairly simple to get out of (he estimated that Miyo would be able to free herself within thirty seconds); nevertheless, he made another note to himself: discuss ways to avoid friendly fire.

A slight _crnk-shh_ to his left—the sound of someone pushing hard off tree bark—was all the warning he had before Yagura sprung at him, fists flying. Aoba shot off the tree, Yagura in hot pursuit. They landed on the ground, where a rather one-sided taijutsu fight commenced. Aoba barely had to try to dodge the blows, and it didn't escape his notice that Yagura's movements were less crisp and more sluggish than before. It seemed that the boy was tiring as well. Pity, and he was doing so well. Smiling in thought, Aoba added "more endurance training" to his list of things to beat into his students.

After a bout of futile struggling, Yagura reached into his pouch and pulled out a couple of round objects. Aoba recognized them instantly.

_Smoke bombs_.

He had just enough time to glimpse the boy's hands flashing through the seals for the Clone Technique before the bombs exploded. When most of the smoke had cleared, there were three Yaguras instead of one.

Nice. With the smoke obstructing his sight, he had no way of knowing which copy was the real one. And residue from the smoke blast made it hard to see those little details that most shinobi knew to watch out for when distinguishing real from fake—lack of shadow, lack of crushed grass underfoot, etc.

Unfortunately for Yagura, there was still a pretty simple solution available to him.

Faster than the boy could react, he struck out at the nearest copy.

His fist connected.

"Lucky," he commented as the boy went sprawling on the ground. "That means the other ones are clones, then."

At this statement, the two clones came charging at him. He raised an eyebrow but didn't otherwise react. Regular clones couldn't actually _do_ anything, after all.

"An illusionary clone has no substance," he said, as the first clone swung his fist at Aoba's face. "Once properly identified, nothing it does will accomplish anything."

The fist passed through his nose without incident, and the clone dissipated.

"See?" he said, watching as the second clone lunged toward his leg, sliced through his hip pouch with a kunai, and raced off with it.

Wait, what?

_Shadow clones?_ was his first incredulous thought. Then: _no, no, don't be stupid, there's no way he'd have enough chakra..._

Then there was a puff of smoke beside him, and Yagura was revealed to be a grinning Shiho.

Aoba blinked.

"We got it, sensei," Shiho said. "We got the tickets."

It took him a split second to connect the dots. _Henge_. Transformation. Of course. The Yagura from earlier had been fighting sluggishly not because he was too tired, but because it wasn't Yagura at all. The real one had been hidden the whole time, lying in wait for the smoke bomb to cover his entrance.

"Well, you certainly surprised me with that stunt," he admitted. "Kudos to you, by the way. It was very clever. So clever, in fact, that I can only think of one flaw in your plan."

Shiho tilted her head. "What's that?"

Aoba shot her a dazzling grin. "The tickets aren't in my hip pouch."

Shiho stared at him. "Oh. Well, frankly...that's a pretty big flaw."

"Uh-huh."

Their effort was admirable, but just because he put the tickets in his pouch earlier didn't mean they were still _there_. He could have easily relocated them any time within the hour.

Shiho sighed before calling out, "Guys? Plan B. Try to hurry, we've got less than a minute now." And with that, she wobbled to her feet and drew a kunai. Interested to see what she'd do with her remaining minute, Aoba stayed put and watched. In one swift motion, she hurled the weapon into the leafy foliage before racing away. As she left, the distinct _snap_ of a severed rope sounded out, and a spray of kunai was released from behind him. Trap. Aoba didn't even have to look; he simply pivoted to the side, allowing them to hurtle past him and sink harmlessly into the ground.

"Kai!" came a muffled shout from beyond the trees.

Or...not so harmlessly, as it turned out. Explosive tags clung to the handles of the kunai like evil leeches. Apparently, his genin were trying to kill him.

Time to get the heck out of there.

Aoba cast out his chakra, searching for his—ah, there it was, the nearest pre-cut log. Substitution, thou art lifesaver. A quick swirl of chakra, and he was gone.

The jounin ended up on a high tree branch, which set off alarm bells. He didn't recall hiding any of his logs this high, since it made Substituting awkward and disorienting. Which meant that they must have been moved...

It occurred to him that he hadn't seen Miyo around for a while.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, a pair of hands pressed against his back.

"Move and I suck your chakra dry."

Ah, the Chakra Absorption. Well, not much he could do here, given that he didn't know much about the technique. It was a family one, after all, and those ones were generally pretty secretive. Of course, there was a chance she was bluffing, but there also was a chance that she wasn't. Better not to risk it because chakra exhaustion was _so not fun_.

Obligingly, he froze.

"Ah, hello there, Miyo-chan. Were you the one who moved my logs?"

"Sorry," she said, "but, uh...I was the only one who could find all of them, so. Yeah. It was Yagura's idea."

"Pinning the blame on him, are we? Hmm. What about the clone thing?"

"Shiho's idea. Anyway, so—where are the tickets, Aoba-sensei? Um, or else. I mean, tell me or else." The pressure on his back increased.

Aoba tsked. "We need to work on your intimidation tactics. But they're in the front pocket of my chuunin vest."

Keeping one hand carefully on his back, Miyo searched his front pockets. By the time she found the tickets, Shiho and Yagura had joined them.

"Did we make it?" Shiho asked.

Aoba got up and stretched. "Yes you did, and with about"—he glanced at his watch—"five seconds to spare. Good work, you three. Good teamwork, good plan...although, I didn't expect you guys to be willing to kill me over movie tickets. Those exploding tags? Not cool."

"Says the guy who told us to come at him with the _intent to kill_," Yagura muttered.

"What, did you think I meant that?"

"Why would you even say it otherwise?"

"I dunno, I just heard it, ah...somewhere, and thought it sounded cool."

At that declaration, all three genin _stared_ at him. It was kind of creepy. Even disregarding Shiho and Yagura, who were pretty fearsome starers, there was no way a blind person should be able to stare so well.

Aoba cleared his throat. "Right. Anyway. Nice work, again. Especially, now that I think of it—that blundering bit with the snares."

Miyo looked puzzled. "You mean when I fell into Shiho's trap?"

"Yes, good use of misdirection, it completely made me underestimate you…" He peered at her. "It wasn't intentional?"

"Um, no."

"…I suppose the chakra sucking thing was a bluff, too?"

She offered him a sheepish grin. "Well…yes. I mean, I've been practicing a lot, but there's no way I can suck out all your chakra at once."

Aoba sighed. "Right, let's just go see that movie before I lose all credibility as a teacher. We'll have the post-training discussion tomorrow. What was that film called again? Princess- something or other?"

"Princess Gale," said Shiho.

"Right, that. Let's go, then, chop-chop."

Aoba's last thought before leaving the training grounds was that despite their initial blundering, his genin had performed very well. And overall, they'd improved quite a lot since graduation.

In fact, come to think of it...they were probably going to be ready for C-ranks soon.

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* * *

**A/N:**

Okay, so a certain reviewer has pointed out that I've been making some of the shadier scenes vague to the point of ridiculousness. (Shout-out to Babyuknowme13; thanks for the input!) Anyway, I hope that this time the unnamed characters are easier to make out. I'm curious, though; can any of you name them all? (Careful, though, a few of the descriptions are meant to be misleading.)

Anyway, I'll cut this short before I start rambling. As always, alert me if you see any mistakes, and thanks for reading. Happy (late) New Year to everyone!

EDIT: Miyo is blind. Blind people don't do movies. Thank you, Kine X. This is why I need sharp reviewers like you. I'm such a ditz. Once more, guys, please point out inconsistencies as you see them because I'm a scatterbrain and am bound to make blundering errors.

Anyway, logical consequence to the movie fiasco is on my deviantart, if any of you are curious.


	9. pennyroyal

**A/N:**

Changed the summary. Thoughts?

Also, ninja technique of the day is Substitution. AKA Kawarimi.

* * *

**Little Acorn**

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-9-

pennyroyal

_flee away_

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Naruto was scowling.

Why was he scowling? Well, they were supposed to be doing partner-based tree jumping exercises today, and he wanted to be Sakura's partner. Like, he'd taken extra special care to brush his hair this morning (he slicked it back with spit and everything!) and he even asked Iruka-sensei _really_ nicely. But _nooo_, his stupid sensei had just yelled at him and assigned her to work with that dumb Uchiwa.

Hence the scowling. Especially since he had ended up having to work with that lazy idiot who never actually _did_ anything and always slept in class.

"Troublesome," Nara Shikamaru sighed, and Naruto couldn't agree more.

Fortunately, Naruto was never one to let personal slights against him slide. It was time for payback, and he had a _plan_.

So when all the kids started filing out of the classroom to start their exercises, Naruto lagged behind. Once he was certain both Iruka-sensei and Sasuke were out of the room, he made a beeline for the his victim's seat. Time to put his pranking abilities to good use. Itching powder, whoopee cushions, fake bugs, glue—Uzumaki Naruto was going all out.

It was only fair, he reasoned to himself as he pulled out his ultra-super-duper-secret pranking kit. Sasuke was _always_ getting in his way. This time the jerk would be getting a taste of his own medicine. An eye for an eye, and all that.

_Be careful of him_.

Miyo's face, pale and uneasy, flashed through his mind; Naruto paused, his hand hovering a scant centimeter from Sasuke's bag. For a moment his eyes flit from bag to doorway in indecision. Then he scoffed to himself. Why was he thinking of that now? Be careful of Sasuke? Ha! As if. Sasuke was going down. He was going to get pranked so hard it'd become _legendary_. Like, people would be talking about this day five centuries later, and crown it as a holiday or something. The Day Sasuke Got Owned. Oh, that name had a nice ring to it.

Who cared, really, what Miyo said? She was a weird weirdo who did weird things. So she had an odd fixation on Sasuke. So what? It wasn't like she was the first girl who got all weird about him.

_But she's your friend_, came the sobering thought, and Naruto frowned.

_This is different_, he argued to himself. And it _was_. It had nothing to do with her and everything to do with _him_._  
_

So there.

Nodding to himself, he reached for a whoopee cushion. His hand made it about halfway before he sighed and slumped against the desk. Huh. Somehow, he wasn't in the mood for pranks, anymore. Imagine that.

A long-suffering sigh sounded from his right. Naruto jumped and spun around, finding Shikamaru slouched against an adjacent desk. Oh, right. Shikamaru. He'd forgotten about his partner.

A short staring contest commenced. The Nara looked like he very much wanted to raise his eyebrows at him, but couldn't be bothered to move the necessary facial muscles. After a while Naruto just shrugged and offered him a sheepish grin.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Shikamaru finally said, with his customary drawl, "but we should probably get a move on."

And then he trudged off, moving with all the haste and vivacity of a dying slug.

Naruto spared a brief moment to put away his tiny pranking kit before followed his partner. Just before exiting the classroom, he glanced behind himself and mourned all those unrealized plans. Such a pity...but then again, there'd be other opportunities. He could wait a little while.

Besides, he could always just beat up Sasuke in their next spar.

.

.

.

Lately, I'd been having a lot of headaches.

Weird headaches.

I don't even know how to describe them. They _hurt_, yes, like normal migraines do, but they also tended to scramble my thoughts. Just yesterday, I was jogging past the Hokage Monument, and then suddenly my head started throbbing and I ended up flat on my face mumbling about the legendary Tsunade-sama and some random fellow named Shimura Danzou. Whose name sounded very familiar, for some reason.

It was..._weird_.

I tried everything I could think of. Ginger tea. Chamomile tea. Peppermint, rose hip, valerian root. When all the herbal treatments failed, I finally grew a spine and went to see a doctor.

The Leaf Hospital. I hated it. Stale air clung to the walls here, air that tasted stiff and artificial. It didn't thrum with life like normal air did; it just hung in place like stagnant water. You'd think a hospital would exude an aura of life and healing, but whenever I came here, all around me reeked of bad memories and hurt and death.

But even after stomaching the uneasy atmosphere of the hospital, my endeavor proved useless in the end. The medic-nin there were very nice—especially since most of them remembered Mom—but when they inspected my head they couldn't find anything wrong with it.

I wasn't lying. I wasn't imagining things. But the flickers of pity in their chakra suggested a different story.

Frustrated, I went to Aoba-sensei. He suggested meditation—jokingly, perhaps, but at this point I was receptive to anything.

The only problem was, I sucked at meditation.

First of all, I couldn't empty my mind. It was like trying not to think something—the more you try _not_ to think about it, the more you actually _do_.

_Empty all thoughts, focus, have to focus, have to focus real hard, like you're going to take an exam, only instead of thinking, you have to not think, so it's like an...opposite exam...wow, Naruto would totally ace that exam—_

_Urggh, focus!_

Yes, like that. But that wasn't even the only problem—when I actually _did_ enter a state of relaxation...I fell asleep.

Mind not empty enough? Lack of focus.

Mind too empty? Fall asleep.

It was so frustrating. Just another thing I wasn't good at. Eventually my feeble attempts at meditation stopped, because it didn't seem to be going anywhere. Besides, I could be spending all that time on something so much more productive, like training.

So I trained.

Today marked the end of my third month, in regards to Chakra Absorption training. After _much_ toil and struggle, I had reduced my absorption time to about five seconds—hardly combat-ready, but still a vast improvement from my initial five minutes. Or at least, that's what my brother assured me. But _he_ could absorb and process chakra near instantly. I still had a long way to go.

On the upside: I could now, with difficulty, steal chakra from animals and plants as well as human beings, although it took about three times as long to process. Their chakra just felt so _alien, _making assimilation a rather tricky matter. I suspected part of the reason was because their chakra composition differed so vastly from mine. Both animals and plants tended to have a higher Yang to Yin ratio, as opposed to my fairly substantial Yin to Yang ratio—blending them together was like mixing oil and water.

Taking a deep breath, I formed the hand seals for the family technique. Yoroi didn't need the seals, but, well, he was _Yoroi_.

_Dog. Snake. Tiger._

My surroundings flared into life, as I experienced that familiar _brilliance_ that accompanied the initiation of the technique. Strings of natural energy swirled around me, tugging at my senses. Part of me wanted to pull on them, just to see what happened, but the rest of me (read: the saner portion) shied away. _Too dangerous. Don't be a moron._

Instead, I concentrated on the infestation of bermuda grass at my fingertips. The "devil grass," as it was called colloquially, was both difficult to kill and dangerous to the other plants in my garden, as its roots produced detrimental allelochemicals that inhibited surrounding growth. Bermuda grass also sprouted rhizomes—creeping rootstalks—that broke off when you tried to remove them, so all attempts at digging out the roots usually just made things ten times worse. It was a gardener's nightmare.

_But not anymore_, I thought as I grasped the weed and pulled at its chakra. The satisfaction of sensing of the plant wither was tempered with the ice-cooling sensation of the death itself. I might not flinch anymore every time something died, but I still hated the feeling. It was horrible and disturbing and _cold_.

And then, amidst all the death and cold, the absorption and assimilation—something happened.

_Head pounding mind throbbing hurt hurt pain pain pain—_

I slapped my hand to my forehead, technique aborted in my haste; the chakra flared out from my hands and dissipated into the atmosphere—

—_sweeping strokes curves and lines burning ice_—

What was—lines—a character?

—_rushing cold, intent to hide, burst of ink-smooth scribbles, and then—_

Gone. It was gone. Over. But the burning ice-hot character remained firmly imprinted on my mind.

秘

_Himeru._

Secret.

For nearly ten minutes I just sat there, trying to wrap my mind around what just happened. This...had never happened before. Was this connected to my training? Or was it another one of my bizarre headaches?

The headaches. This was getting ridiculous. When had the headaches started, anyway? A month ago? No, more than that. Three months? Yes, that seemed about right, three months—

_Three months_.

My breath caught in my throat. That was the same time I started Chakra Absorption training.

Oh my god.

What if...what if I was doing something wrong? Even after all that hard work put into mastering the technique—what if I'd been messing up? Going insane? Was that what all the headaches and scrambled thoughts were about? Was I _going to become a vegetable_?_  
_

I mentally slapped myself.

No! No. Don't be silly. My brother would tell me if that were the case, if I were doing something wrong. As for the character, the _himeru_, it was probably nothing important. Right? Right.

Reassured, I turned my attention back on to the dead bermuda grass.

_Something is wrong_, whispered a little voice at the back of my mind.

I ruthlessly squashed it, too afraid to face the implications.

.

.

.

In front of me sat an assortment of vials, some of which stored deadly contents.

(Wintersweet sap: _cardiac dysrhythmia_. Angel's trumpet: _delirium_. Narcissus bulb: _paralysis_. Curare vine: _asphyxiation_.)

Not all of it was poison, though. Some served medicinal purposes.

(Poppy seeds: _sedative_. Tormentil extract: _styptic_. Goldenrod leaves: _antiseptic_. Aloe vera pulp: _analgesic_. Ipecac syrup: _emetic_.)

Each vial was had different scratches marked into the stoppers, so that I could identify them.

Each vial was also airtight, sealed with a special chakra-reinforced cohesive film that Mom had developed herself. Since the strength of the waxy film depended on the amount of chakra within it, all you had to do to remove the film was to remove its chakra. For the average ninja, such a feat would be difficult at best. For an Akadou, one quick slurp and the film melted away.

I would be the third person to ever utilize the film. Since Dad wasn't an Akadou by birth, only Mom and Yoroi had ever been able to use it.

With each vial safely sealed, I began tucking them away. Some went into my leather pouch; others went into the hidden pockets sewn meticulously on the interior of my sleeves. In both cases, I made sure to fasten all the little straps and flaps so they stayed secure.

Once that was over with, I made sure to stock up on basic ninja equipment. Wires, bandages, kunai, shuriken, explosive tags, smoke bombs, flash bombs, ration bars...needless to say, it was not a good day for my wallet.

But I had to be prepared. I _had _to.

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.

"Do you need any help?" Shiho asked briskly, sounding in equal parts amused and concerned.

"I've got it," I assured her, before promptly falling over.

"You're doing a fine job of demonstrating that," said Yagura.

"Miyo," Aoba-sensei cut in, "we're delivering a package to a nearby town, not even ten kilometers away. Why are you dressed like you're about to enter a war-zone?"

"Preparation is important," I said once I regained my balance. Frowning, I hefted my traveling bags—all three of them—and tried to adjust my right elbow guard by rubbing it against the knapsack. It didn't work.

"Judgement is important, too," Aoba said, tapping me lightly on the head. "And we aren't going anywhere until you abandon the extra baggage."

I pouted. They didn't get it; I _needed_ all of this. This was our first C-rank, and despite the low risk of enemy attack, all my instincts were screaming at me to be prepared for danger. There was something off about the mission. I didn't know what it was, but it was there. My instincts were rarely wrong.

Opening my mouth, I prepared myself for a fierce debate on why, exactly, all the "extra baggage" was necessary.

"But," I began.

"But nothing," Aoba said.

"...Alright," I said, deflating and heading back.

Yamashiro Aoba was a formidable opponent.

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.

.

I was jumpy for the entire mission. My teammates never said anything, but I know it must have grated on their nerves.

Anyway, we arrived at the town, delivered the package, and left. A perfectly normal C-rank. No bandits or random missing-nin. No sudden natural disasters. No spur-of-the-moment political revolutions. It seemed my instincts were wrong.

For some reason, this disturbed me.

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.

The weeks passed slowly.

Saturday was still gardening day, although nowadays I was alone with Naruto more often than not. His presence seemed to trigger some of the more violent headaches, although it was hard to tell whether it was truly because of my mysterious ailment, or if it was due to Naruto just being _Naruto_.

(Also, Tora the cat snuck into my house four more times. Madam Shijimi was starting to get suspicious.)

In matters of training, we of Team Six discovered to our combined dismay that Aoba possessed an unholy love for the Substitution Technique. According to various sources (i.e.; a cackling Mitarashi Anko upon sighting us wearing bruises like second skins) his Substitution drills were legendary among jounin circles. Now that we'd experienced them firsthand, it wasn't hard to see why.

In matters of inter-team relations, I continued to actively avoid teams Three and Five of our fellow graduating class. Team Three because of the whole Tenten thing, and Team Five because I was fairly certain every member of that group hated me. Needless to say, we weren't the most tight-knit of rookie teams.

As for _intra_-team relations...well, Shiho was constantly "busy." She also seemed to become progressively more distressed, although she hid it well. I was still working up the courage to confront her about it, since any casual inquiries on her well-being were promptly brushed off.

Yagura, on the other hand, was the same as always—grouchy and pessimistic and prickly. At the end of each mission he'd grab his share of the monetary reward, and then head straight back to his apartment like a brooding dragon off to hoard treasure. He was even more of a hermit than I was.

Aoba laughed and said that we were the most introverted team he'd ever seen, and then proceeded to beat the living daylights out of us during training. Or rather, have his evil log minions beat us up for him. My teammates were not pleased—Shiho professed to having nightmares about disembodied tree trunks, and Yagura speculated loudly (and colorfully) on Aoba's dubious sanity. I was inclined to agree with both of them.

And so a month passed in a blur of training and D-ranks and headaches...and vigorous attempts at avoiding people...and an unhealthy amount of logs.

Then our second C-rank mission came knocking at the door, and I was once again caught in a flurry of preparation.

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.

.

Saka was lively little town situated on a sloping hill, about twenty kilometers east of Konoha. It was here where we would meet our client, a wealthy lady named Hara Seiko. _Very_ wealthy, judging from the size of her estate. My entire house could probably fit in her bathroom.

Anyway, we entered the estate, passing the ivy-twined gate; an attendant of some sort led us into the actual house, where we met our client in the entrance hall. Hara Seiko, as it turned out, was a tall woman with a rather severe demeanor. A faint scent of citrus clung to her, and her chakra had the feel of cinnamon—warm, with a hint of spice. She also had a slow, deliberate way of speaking, like she was reciting dramatic poetry.

"You four are the ninja I sent for?" she asked, except that it came out sounding more like, "_You_ four are the _ninja _I_ sent_ for?"

"Of course not," Yagura muttered under his breath. "See these forehead protectors? We're obviously street musicians."

Shiho elbowed him.

"Uh, yes," I confirmed, since no one else seemed inclined to answer Seiko's inquiry. (Shiho and Yagura were engaged in some intense, silent warfare and Aoba-sensei was too busy being amused to say or do anything.) "Hara Seiko, right?"

"Yes, _ma'am_," Hara Seiko said.

Well, that was oddly formal. "Oh, um, there's no need to call me ma'am," I assured her.

Somehow, it must have been the wrong thing to say, because Seiko's chakra suddenly went all quivery with irritation. Hastily, I tried to placate her.

"B-but you can call me that if you really want..."

Unfortunately, my efforts at diplomacy fell flat. I sensed, to my dismay, that our client was becoming more and more incensed. (Oddly enough, Aoba-sensei seemed to be growing more and more amused.)

"...I—er, um, whatever you, I—I mean—I...you—"

"Oh, honestly," Shiho sighed, before seizing the metaphorical reigns of the conversation. "We are indeed the ninja you sent for, Hara-san. I understand you requested for an intelligence team?"

And just like that, the burden of conversation was lifted from my incapable hands. I breathed a sigh of relief, the tense line of my shoulders relaxing. Thank god for Shiho.

"_Quite_ right," Seiko answered, sounding...not happy, exactly, but at least she didn't seem angry with me anymore.

And with that, it was straight to business. We learned that our client suspected her husband, Shuji, of infidelity. He was, in Seiko's words, "distant and evasive," and was always going out for "work." Which was fine, for a wealthy businessman, except for one little problem: he was almost never to be found where he _said _he'd be.

So, Seiko's mission for us was simple.

Target: Hara Shuji.

Duration: One week.

Objective: Find out _everything._

.

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* * *

_Day: 1_

_Status: skulking two blocks down from Twin Hills Tavern_

* * *

My teammates surrounded me, waiting for my verdict.

I twisted at my fingers, brow furrowed in concentration. Sifting through everything, chakra signatures and ambient chakra alike—well, it wasn't exactly easy. Especially since the target had wandered into a pub, where the walls of _not-chakra_ and the clashing of various signatures made things a bit fuzzy. Slowly, I turned my focus in and out as I scanned the area.

Medium sized pub. Roughly square shape. Sparse amounts of plant decoration. Large hollowed out space beneath tavern, containing a myriad of barrels and crates—probably some sort of underground wine cellar. Customers, young and old, male and female, healthy and ill, all in various states of inebriation. Past the tables out front, into the private rooms at the back, a familiar brush of something _stern_, _rigid_, _glassy—_the same glassy touch we'd been following all day—_  
_

"I see him," I said. "Well, er, not literally, but—I _see_ him. Hara Shuji."

"And?" Aoba-sensei prompted.

I paused, gathering my thoughts. "He's sitting in a private room at the back, and...um, I think he's drinking, his chakra feels odd—"

A sudden headache pounded at my skull.

_A pig, two women, a bottle of sake. Tsunade-sama, drinking, gambling, pig-tailed, blonde—_

Wha—? Blonde? _Blonde?_ I didn't understand—_I don't understand—_

"Well, don't hurt yourself over it," Yagura muttered, and I realized that I had said the last part out loud. And that my face was scrunching up rather spectacularly.

Flustered, I went on. "I mean. He's. Um. He's, there's, he's sitting with a woman. You know. Alone. Privately."

I felt like smacking myself. Thankfully, my team was professional enough to ignore my stammering.

"A woman?" Shiho asked, a frown in her voice. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. The chakra systems are different; I can tell."

"Civilian?" Aoba inquired.

"Un. Too small to be a ninja's."

A silence fell over the group as the implications sank in.

"Well, that was awfully fast," Yagura finally said.

"We still have a week left of investigation," Shiho pointed out.

"An investigation that we solved in about ten minutes," Yagura grumbled back. "It's so good to know what our client thinks of our capabilities. Truly flattering."

"Nonetheless," Aoba-sensei cut in, his voice strangely thoughtful, "Hara-san has paid us for a week's worth of investigation to find out as much as we can. We're obligated to continue; the mission isn't over just yet."

My sullen teammate sighed. "Joy."

Aoba-sensei chuckled. "Chin up, Yagura-kun. It won't be _so_ bad. Next up is infiltration—bound to be more interesting, no?"

.

.

.

* * *

_Day: 1_

_Status: skulking outside the Twin Hills Tavern, waiting for teammates to get a move on_

* * *

Three Transformations later, my teammates were within the bar, and I was...not.

(Sometimes, I really wished I had been born with sight.)

I'd considered discreetly Substituting myself inside, but Aoba-sensei dismissed the idea. Even though the Substitution Technique was by far my best one (a result of having nothing much else to practice during my Academy years), it wasn't as if I could pull off a seamless, smokeless Substitution. _That_ required a level of precision and chakra control that I did not yet possess...and in the meantime, poofs of smoke weren't exactly conducive to stealth.

Instead, I sat upon the branches of a maple tree that hung over the tavern's rooftop. My role here was simple: channeling chakra to my ears, I contented myself with a little eavesdropping.

The occasional bark of laughter peppered the sounds of tavern gossip—already a raucous cacophony in its own right—and I tried not to wince. The obvious downside of hypersensitive ears? It _really_ made you vulnerable to loud noises. Which was one of the reasons why paranoid ninja didn't have it activated 24/7.

Closing my eyes, I let the ebb of conversation overtake my senses.

"...got it for only a thousand ryou, no joke..."

"...and then she told _me_ to apologize, can you believe the nerve of that..."

"...been a long while since I saw you like this, why don't you..."

"...cousin in Kiri. So glad the Rebellion's died down, good riddance..."

_Rebellion? What's this about?_ It had nothing to do with the mission, but I was intrigued. I listened harder, trying to pinpoint the conversation.

"I know, right? Damn rebels, as if Kiri isn't bloody enough already. Flipping barbarians, the lot of them."

"Well, I'm just glad it's over with. About time, I say; them rebels must have realized they had no chance. Where do you reckon they've gone off to?"

"Hell if I know—"

"Oh, say, that reminds me. Have you two heard about the, the. The—"

"Spit it out, man."

"The...monster. That's right. Monster of the Hidden Mist?"

My eyes widened, then narrowed again as the throbbing pain in my head pulsed back into life.

_Monster...of the Hidden Mist. Huge sword and sharp teeth. One of the Seven—_

I clutched at my forehead and forced myself to concentrate, _concentrate..._

"...the one. Heard from...on the grapevine is...sighted in Wave, can you believe...with another...companion..."

I grit my teeth and focused; my hearing swam fuzzily for several dizzying moments before I finally managed to pick the conversation back up.

"...out his entire clan?"

"The very one."

"Ugh, yikes."

"Yikes is right. Especially if the rebels are prowling around Wave Country—"

"No, no, no, what are you on about? Get your facts straight. He was talking about the _monster_, not the—"

"Miyo?"

I nearly shrieked, but restrained myself. As it was, I still almost fell off my branch.

"Shuji's leaving," came Shiho's unbearably magnified voice, and I finally developed the sense to shut off the hearing hypersensitivity. "We need to leave before...are you all right?"

"Umm, yes," I said leaping down from my perch. "Just, er. Headache. You know. The hyper—hypertivisity—hy—_hypersensitivity_. I'm fine."

Despite my words (or, perhaps, because of them) a hue of concern crept into Shiho's chakra. And no matter what I said, it persisted all throughout the rest of the day.

.

.

.

* * *

_Day: 2_

_Status: skulking around Hara Administrative Building_

* * *

The woman's name was Rika. Apparently, she had red hair. And was very beautiful. At least, that's what Aoba-sensei said. Yagura said something...less complimentary, so I wasn't quite sure who to believe.

Seiko was pleased with Day One's results. Viciously so. (It was kind of scary.) This did not mean, however, that we were off the hook. And thus began Day Two. After scurrying out of our temporary living quarters—a tiny, creaky inn—we proceeded to split up the stalking duties. Shiho and Aoba would follow Rika; Yagura and I were to watch Hara Shuji.

It was extremely boring.

Shuji had saw fit to lock himself in his office for the entire day. Despite his internal agitation, careful scrutinization of his activities revealed nothing suspicious—all he did was sit in his oversized chair and go over paperwork. Hours and hours on end.

All in all, not a fun way to spend one's day.

(Although, I did manage to squeeze in a bit of Chakra Absorption training. That was definitely a plus.)

.

.

.

* * *

_Day: 3_

_Status: skulking around Hara Administrative Building_

* * *

Day Three was pretty much a carbon copy of Day Two, except that there was even more paperwork than yesterday.

Hours upon hours. It was terrifying.

I was beginning to suspect that Shuji wasn't quite human.

.

.

.

* * *

_Day: 4_

_Status: skulking around Hara Administrative Building_

* * *

Though we observed Shuji, we never actually went inside the building. Mostly, we relied on my chakra sense, and contented ourselves with lurking in the general vicinity. As of now, we were at a tourist stand across the street from the Hara Administrative Building, pretending to examine the vendor's wares.

I was poking at a piece on a shogi board (the hisha, _the rook_, flying chariot, _tower_; _yagura_) when it happened. A dull ache bloomed at the back of my head, and strange, garbled thoughts exploded from out of nowhere.

I froze.

Yagura noticed.

"Something the matter?"

"Headache," I said, as dismissively as I could. And then, because my brain had turned to mush: "Do you like turtles?"

"...Excuse me?"

"You seem like a turtle person," I said distractedly, head pounding. "A giant turtle person."

"What are you—"

A passing thought caught my attention, something subtle that carried a wispy notion of _déjà vu. _Confused and wanting answers, I struggled after it.

"You're a midget," I stated in realization, and then sunk back in confusion, because _what?_

"I'm a midget," Yagura repeated slowly, after a pause. "Alright. I'm a midget. I suppose that makes you some sort of microorganism—"

"No, wait. You're a Kage."

My teammate trailed off into silence. He seemed to be at a loss for words.

I furrowed my brow, wrestling with thoughts and memories—_memories, _of course, were they _memories? _But how could it...?

Somehow, I had to find out. But it was getting so much harder to think...

"You killed children," I babbled, barely aware of what I was saying, "which isn't very nice at all. But then again you were brainwashed, I think...by a tomato. Evil tomato...who died, but not really, because he committed identity theft...and there was a walking stick...and..."

And...I lost it. The wispy thought I was searching for slipped from my reach; my brain untangled; the pain subsided.

For a while, Yagura and I simply stood there, all pretense of examining the various trinkets forgotten. In the long stretch of silence, I was suddenly, _painfully_ aware that my entire rant made no sense whatsoever. I must have resembled some sort of lunatic.

Yagura finally spoke up.

"Are you...drunk? Or something?"

His voice was flat and practically screamed _what the heck is wrong with you_.

"Um." Fiddling with my fingers, I was seized with the sudden, fervent desire to melt into the ground for all eternity.

A shift of something far away snagged my attention. Mellow glass. Movement.

"Shuji's going to the bathroom," I said, somewhat inanely.

Anything, to fill the silence. Because silence was swollen with racing thoughts and hidden meaning. Silence tore at every insecurity and every unspoken fear_._ Silence was _dread._

_Strange, alien, weed-creature. Not supposed to be here. An eerie sense of...unbelonging..._

And suddenly, I was swallowed with the need to leave, to flee, to run away.

"Infiltration—gonna check up on—bathroom—office," I said, words tumbling over each other in their haste to exit my mouth. Yagura had started to say something, but it was too late, and I was already flying through the hand seals.

Ram-boar-ox-dog-snake_-__Substitution—!_

A sigh of billowing smoke, and I was gone.

.

.

.

* * *

_Day: 4_

_Status: skulking around Hara Shuji's office_

* * *

I reappeared on Shuji's desk, in the exact spot where his small, decorative bonsai plant used to reside.

After taking a few seconds to calm down, I reviewed my actions.

And immediately wanted to slap myself.

Substituting into the target's office on a whim, without warning? Without my teammate? For little reason other than some stupid insecurities that just wouldn't go away? And now there was a random bonsai pot in the middle of the street. So much for discretion. I might as well have taken to the rooftops, screaming to the entire world to _hey look at me I'm a ninja!_

Some intelligence agent I was.

Still...it could have been worse. Shuji wasn't present, after all. Now that I was here, I might as well do some snooping around. Not that I was expecting to find anything, of course, but I couldn't very well return to my teammate empty-handed after that spectacular freak-out.

My fingers tingled as I activated the usual hypersensitivity. I scanned the papers strewn on his desk, frowned, did a double-take, then scanned and read them again.

_Wait. These are..._

Frown deepening, I opened a drawer at random, plucked out a file, and scanned the contents. I stayed there, on the ground, sifting through paperwork for about ten minutes before the movement of _glassy-smooth_ chakra alerted me to Shuji's return. Time to go, then. After making sure to put every file and paper back exactly as I had found it, I climbed back onto the desk, right at the empty spot where a potted tree used to sit.

I cast my senses outwards. Found the bonsai. Flashed through hand seals.

_Substitution_.

Gone.

.

.

.

* * *

_Day: 4_

_Status: dealing with an angry teammate_

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Yagura hissed when I rematerialized. "I know this mission is stupid, but seriously? We're on a covert operation, if you haven't noticed! I had to do some very fast talking when—"

I waved my hand at him in a vague, jerky gesture. "Hang—hang on a moment. Where are we?"

When Substituting, I'd snatched at the feeling of the bonsai tree without paying too much attention to direction. But Yagura must have moved the bonsai, since I didn't recognize our surroundings. Gone were the tourist stands. Gone were the paved roads. Gone were the meandering strands of people. Instead, we appeared in a secluded grove. _Pine. Plum. __Maple..._

"Just downhill of Valleyside. You know, our inn. Where we're staying. While we complete the mission. The mission that _you've just jeopardized._"

"I'm sorry," I said honestly, with a hint of bemusement. I'd never known Yagura to get so riled up over _anything_...maybe he was one of those crazy hardcore _the-__mission-comes-first_ people. But then again, didn't he insult the very mission he was defending not two seconds ago? Rather contradictory, that. Or perhaps he was just—

_Wait. Stop. Focus._

I reigned in my wandering thoughts and turned my attention back to the matter at hand.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, "but I did find something."

"Oh, _pray _tell."

"I think," I said seriously, ignoring his skepticism, "that Hara Shuji is more than just Rika's illicit lover. I think...I think he's _the Godfather_."

A pause.

"He's her _godfather?_" Yagura said, incredulous. "Oh, gee, that isn't disturbing at all. Thank you for that extremely necessary and relevant bit of insight, I've always wanted to be scarred for life—"

"Not _her_ godfather, _the_ Godfather," I explained, before realizing that I had no idea what I was talking about, either.

_Okay, okay. Start over._

I took a deep breath and cut to the chase. "I think Hara Shuji is trafficking drugs."

Yagura immediately sobered.

.

.

.

* * *

_Day: 4_

_Status: conducting investigation_

* * *

We spent the rest of the day snooping around Shuji's office, Substituting in whenever he left the room, and then Substituting back out when I felt his presence return.

Once we were all back and safely ensconced at our room in the Valleyside Inn, Yagura and I voiced our suspicions to the rest of the team.

"Well," said Aoba-sensei, once we'd finished explaining our observations. "This does make things a bit more complicated."

.

.

.

* * *

_Day: 5_

_Status: training_

* * *

Counterintuitively, Aoba-sensei announced that we'd be taking a break from information gathering.

"Just a hunch," he said, when questioned on his decision. None of us knew what to make of that.

Sensei summoned two crows, Mei and Kurai, who would carry out the investigation in our place. The summoning itself was very cool—it was like a rift in space, a bridge between dimensions, and for a brief moment I thought I glimpsed something _alien_ and _otherwordly_—the crows' dimension...?

_Throb,_ went my head, and I found my mind wandering towards toads and snakes and slugs.

"You okay there?" said Aoba-sensei. At those words, Shiho's concern spiked and Yagura's chakra gained a subtle tint of _suspicion_.

"Yes," I assured them quickly, forcing myself to relax. My team did not seem convinced, but let it drop.

We broke off to do individual training for the rest of the day. I focused on mastering my family's technique, Yagura went for taijutsu conditioning, and Shiho went off to do...something. I wasn't quite sure what.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. On the upside, my Chakra Absorption abilities were getting better, as I'd managed to reduce absorption time to just under a second.

On the downside, my headaches were getting worse.

.

.

.

* * *

_Day: 6_

_Status: evaluating intel_

* * *

Mei and Kurai returned to us in the morning for a debriefing, which took place in our room at the inn.

It was intriguing, listening to them talk. The duo of crows had deep, rolling voices that were half-growl, half-warble. I wondered if all summon animals had strange voices, or if crows were simply one of a kind.

"As requested," Mei was saying, "we observed the Shuji-man and Rika-woman. At around noon, Rika-woman sought out Shuji-man—"

"A-_ha_," Aoba-sensei said. "I knew it."

Mei clacked her beak in annoyance. "I suggest you allow me to finish, Aoba-sir, lest you desire bodily harm."

"Bodily harm is good," Kurai put in cheerfully.

Mei thwacked her partner with a swift slash of her wing. "Do shut up, Kurai. And you as well, sir."

Aoba-sensei, who had been unabashedly laughing at the violent exchange, immediately stopped. "Ah, sorry, Mei-chan. Go ahead."

And so the female crow continued her report, with the occasional interjection from Kurai, followed by the occasional death threat from Mei.

(Crows, I observed, were a rather vicious bunch.)

It turned out that Rika and Shuji had another secret meeting in one of the private rooms of the tavern. The private rooms were windowless, so Mei and Kurai weren't privy to the exact content of the meeting, but seeing as the two people in question were supposed _lovers..._well_. _Perhaps it was best that we didn't know.

"Right, then," said Aoba-sensei, once the crows had been dismissed. "Why don't you three tell me what was wrong with that report."

"What isn't?" Yagura countered, leaning back against the wall. "It's so suspicious it's not even funny. After three days of completely avoiding each other, they're suddenly at it again. And on the very day we decided not to tail them, conveniently enough."

"It's obvious that they know of us," Shiho said. "The only question is _how_."

A moment of contemplation as Aoba-sensei waited for us to draw our conclusions.

"You suspected," I said, remembering our teacher's 'hunch'. "You suspected, when I brought up the drug trafficking."

"I did," our teacher replied evenly, and I could _feel_ the lightbulb go off in Yagura's head.

"Ninja," he realized. "That's the only explanation."

"Of course," Shiho mused, catching on quickly. "Shuji and Rika are civilians. Frankly, there's no way they could detect us on their own. Shuji, on the other hand, is rich, influential, and involved in illegal activities. He's probably hired ninja to protect his interests."

That...made an alarming amount of sense. Hiring ninja to guard a secret love affair? A bit over the top, even for a wealthy businessman. Hiring ninja to guard and conceal criminal activity? Much more plausible.

There was only one problem.

"I never sensed any other ninja," I said, speaking hesitantly. "Besides us, I mean. They...their chakra feels so different from civilians. Wouldn't I have noticed, or something?"

Aoba-sensei hmm'ed. "Not necessarily."

I frowned. Something about that statement seemed...hurtful, somehow. Like he was dismissing my capabilities.

"Chakra sensing isn't everything, Miyo," he continued, voice softening as if sensing my disquiet. "Many capable ninja are able to mask their chakra. I've done it myself, sometimes, when waiting for you three to show up at team meetings."

I blinked, taken aback. "You mean, at the dango shop?"

"Got it in one."

"So it _was _a calculated effort," Yagura said, his voice strangely triumphant. "I thought it was suspicious that you never showed up until..."

I tuned him out. Now that I thought of it, there _had_ been times when Aoba-sensei just seemed to pop out of nowhere. To think, all those times he'd been waiting for us at the dango shop, and I'd never noticed...

My attention swiveled back to our current dilemma. If my teammates were right and there _were _other ninja involved in this mess, then this was no longer a simple C-rank mission.

Things had just gotten more dangerous.

.

.

.

* * *

_Day: 6_

_Status: reporting to our client_

* * *

When informed of the most recent development, Hara Seiko seemed caught between a mixture of "appropriately horrified" and "dangerously thrilled." And, naturally, she wanted to know everything about the sordid affair. Aoba-sensei warned her that continuing the investigation could possibly raise the mission ranking, but Seiko was adamant.

"Money is of little concern to me," she said absently. "I must know everything if I'm to organize my husband's ruin."

No one quite knew what to say to that. Shiho, Yagura and I were quickly coming to the realization that Hara Seiko was a very scary woman.

"Oh, and bring him to justice, I suppose," she mused. "Something ought to be done about that criminal organization."

.

.

.

* * *

_Day: 6_

_Status: __skulking outside the Twin Hills Tavern_

* * *

Now that the threat of ninja was a distinct possibility, I could tell that Aoba-sensei was reluctant to take us along with him to spy on the tavern, which he was now convinced doubled as some sort of criminal base. But, as it was clear that our opponents already knew about us, there was really no point in hiding back at the inn. At best, they'd choose to ignore us; at worse, they'd take advantage of Aoba-sensei's absence to attack us. In the end, it was simply safer to stick with a jounin.

In any case, my teammates and I didn't really do much. After Aoba-sensei entered the tavern (Transformation-less, due to the possibility of sensor-nin), Shiho, Yagura and I proceeded to shimmy up a tree, kick up our feet, and do absolutely nothing.

...Okay, that wasn't entirely true. It wasn't relaxing at all.

I was terrified.

Enemy ninja. Enemy _ninja. _Enemy _ninja_ who could _hide from my senses_.

Until now, I hadn't realized how much I depended on my special sight, and for it to have been rendered useless meant bleak, blank _fear_. Because now, for the first time in years...I was flying blind.

(I suddenly understood why so many people feared the dark.)

My teammates seemed to be faring better than me, but I could tell from Shiho's silence and the tense coil of Yagura's chakra that they weren't exactly the picture of calm, either...

(_I was seeing invisible foes everywhere. Suspicious glints of chakra, whirls of nothingness, the hissing whisper that could either mean rustling leaves or the deadly projectiles...)_

A slight skitter of noise, and all three of us tensed. An instant later and we had whirled around, weapons drawn.

After a heart-pounding second of silence, I had calmed sufficiently to realize the nature of our adversary.

It was Kurai.

Yagura snorted. Shiho sighed. I slumped.

"What is it, Kurai-san?" Shiho asked the crow.

"Aoba-sir is getting ready to play," Kurai chirped, dragging out the 'a' in 'play.' "We're going back to Shuji-man."

"Hara Shuji?" I said, impressing myself with how much my voice _didn't_ shake.

The crow hopped impatiently from foot to foot. "Yes, yes. No killing or maiming, though," he said, almost sadly. "Only spying."

"Er. Um...right." I frowned, thinking over our teacher's message. Such a request at this time was...odd. Why would Aoba even bring us here, if he was just going to send us away? Did something unexpected come up? Did he suddenly change his mind? Was this another one of his enigma-riddle-whatsit things...?

"Oh, thank goodness!" said a voice I did not recognize.

Bam. Weapons out.

_Female. Civilian. Oddly familiar._

Mentally, I berated myself. Now was not the time to get lost in thoughts. I was supposed to be the sensor on the team, and darn it, I had to_ pay attention_.

"What is she doing here?" Shiho muttered.

"You know her?" I asked, keeping my voice at an undertone.

"Big lump of red hair," Yagura grumbled, his hand never leaving his weapons pouch. "She's not exactly unrecognizable."

"Yagura, I don't know what she looks like," I said, although my brain was already beginning to piece things together. _Civilian woman. __Red hair. Familiar chakra._

"Oh," said Yagura, sounding as close to apologetic as he was probably ever going to get. "Right. Forgot, sorry."

"S'alright. So she's..."

"That's Rika-woman," Kurai informed me. "I like her. Her hair is like blood, and she smells of dead flowers."

Below us, Rika continued to hurriedly speak. "You, you three are the students of the shinobi-san, yes?"

Now that was odd. She knew Aoba-sensei was a ninja? What could have compelled him to...what exactly was going on here? And why was I getting the feeling that something was very, very wrong?

"We are," Shiho said, after a pause. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh _yes_," Rika said, voice cracking in her distress. "It's absolutely _terrible_—when shinobi-san came in and all those—I c-couldn't—everyone's _fighting_—"

Fighting?

"Aoba-sensei is fighting?" I blurted out.

"He—he sent me to find you," Rika said. "He—I was looking everywhere—I think he needs help—"

_Something is wrong_.

"Miyo," Shiho said, inquiringly.

I hesitated, and then reached inwards. "He's...two hundred meters north of the tavern, with two others. They're moving around really fast, though, so it's hard to...I think they _are _fighting."

A flash of surprise from Rika. Followed by suspicion and...dismay?

Yagura leaned against the trunk. "So now he wants us in the fray. Weird how he keeps changing his mind."

Kurai made an odd shrugging gesture with his wings. "Just said what Aoba-sir told me to say."

"Rika-san," said Shiho, "are you sure that our sensei sent for us? That this was what you heard?"

"Positive," the woman said, and suddenly I realized what was making me so uneasy about the situation.

It was the same feeling I had detected during our genin test months ago. It was a sly flutter of chakra, of dark pliancy, of shadowy cool shade.

It was _deceit_.

Rika was lying.

Shiho and Yagura leapt down from our tree, and I automatically followed them. I didn't even think, even as we began heading towards the fray up north. My mind was elsewhere.

_Chakra sensing isn't everything, _Aoba-sensei had said. He was right. There was something I was missing here, and I wasn't going to find it if I relied completely on my chakra sense.

I closed my eyes in thought, ignoring the sudden headache that tore at my skull (_of another red-haired girl with an extraordinary sense of chakra_). What had Kurai said Rika smelled like? Dead flowers. _Perfume_. Maybe I was being paranoid, but...

Perfume was often used as a masking agent.

Concentrating, I ferried the familiar warmth up towards my nose, coating filaments of olfactory nerves with enhancing chakra. Then I drew a deep breath and carefully sifted through layers of various aromas, trying to pinpoint the scents that clung to Rika.

_Rosemary. Lavender. Mint._ All herbs known for their strong fragrances, all herbs commonly used to hide the scent of death.

_Alcohol. Fermented rice._ Made sense. According to Shiho and Aoba-sensei, she all but lived at the tavern.

_Metal. Blood. Sweat. Death..._

"Miyo? Are you okay?" Shiho sounded concerned.

I opened my eyes and tried to behave as normally as possible. Now that I was paying attention, I realized that Rika's chakra had an odd, muted quality—like how the Hokage's had been, ages ago at that Academy entrance speech.

How had I not noticed it before?

"Yes," I said. It was a struggle to keep my voice steady, but somehow I managed it. Beyond the calm facade, my mind was working furiously. I thought instantly of the poison hidden within my sleeves, but dismissed the idea. Rika was watching. Shiho and Yagura didn't know. There were so many ways things could go wrong if I just launched a sudden assault...

Somehow, I had to alert my teammates without drawing suspicion from a woman who could likely kill us all in two seconds.

"I was just thinking," I finally said. "Um, Rika-san...you smell nice. Like begonias."

Begonia. Danger. Beware.

_Come on, Shiho_.

"Oh," Rika said, as we continued to make our way north. "Ah—thank you?"

I forged on. "It smells familiar...my—my sister uses something similar, I think."

Beside me, Shiho faltered for a split second. She _knew_ I didn't have a sister.

"Oh?" Rika said, with an air of distracted politeness. "Well, she...she has good taste, then."

I smiled as naturally as I could. "Her name's Sakura. You'd like her—she's very nice, and really pretty. Long white hair. I wish I looked like her..."

Sakura—cherry. White cherry. Deception.

Shiho's steps had slowed ever so slightly. I willed her to think faster. It wasn't even much of a code, really. Just an improvised usage of the language of flowers—the very language that Shiho herself had told me so much about...

"Oh, I remember her," Shiho said, and I barely restrained myself from sighing in relief. "She was the one who spilled tea on Yagura, wasn't she?"

Yagura's chakra, which had been growing steadily more suspicious as our strange conversation progressed, now gained a tint of confusion.

"More like _attacked_ me with tea," he said, playing along despite his bewilderment. "Nice and pretty my _foot_. She should be locked up in a psychiatric ward."

Kurai cackled from his perch on Yagura's shoulder. "Oh, I'd like to meet this Sakura-girl! Psychiatric ward, you say?"

Shiho swatted at them both. "Oh, honestly, don't be so rude. She did get us the movie tickets, after all, once we beat her at that weird pennyroyal log game."

I almost choked. _Pennyroyal log game? What?_

Then I realized—_oh. She means Substitution, doesn't she?_

_...Pennyroyal. Flee away. She's telling us to Substitute out._

It made sense. None of us knew the Body Flicker yet, and a sudden Substitution just might be disorienting enough for us to make a getaway. Maybe. If we used a smokescreen. And if we were fast enough. And very lucky. And if Rika was having an off day.

(I had never been more thankful for Aoba's hellish Substitution drills. Between the three of us, the Substitution Technique was probably our very best.)

"It was fun," I said, with false cheer. "We should play the log game again sometime." My implied question lingered in the air: _Are you telling us to Substitute out?_

"Definitely," said Shiho. _Yes_.

A dawning wave of comprehension, and I knew that Yagura had figured out what we were trying to say. Or at least, he'd gotten the gist of it.

"Might as well," he said slowly. "But we're using Aoba's directions this time. Your sister is crazy."_ We'll head toward Hara Administrative Building, like Aoba told us to._

"Alright," Shiho said. Her arm snapped out in a smooth, whiplike motion, releasing tiny grenades that hissed and spat smoke.

The suddenness of the action caught Rika by surprise.

"What in th—?"

"Get help," I shouted at a disoriented Kurai, whom Yagura had flung into the sky. "She's a ninja—she's working with _them_—get _help._"

And then, as one, the three of us Substituted away.

.

.

.

The thing about the Substitution was that you had to _substitute_ with something. I had latched onto and switched with the farthest object I could manage, which happened to be a toilet.

Admittedly, it was not the most well-thought-out of Substitutions.

Several embarrassing collisions and five angry restroom-goers later, I was barreling out of the building and casting my senses about for my teammates.

_There. Autumn and cactus. Shiho...and Yagura. Spread out. In the forest_.

Well, they had certainly been more sensible than I had.

I met back up with Shiho as soon as I could, since I wasn't sure if she knew where the Administrative Building was. From there, we located Yagura and caught up to him as well, because we were stronger as a team of three. And because wandering around alone with an angry enemy ninja on the loose was suicide for genin like us.

"Miyo, you smell," said Shiho, once we were all together again.

I pointedly ignored her.

"What d'you suppose Rika was trying to do?" I said instead.

"Hostages, maybe," Yagura grunted as we leapt through the trees.

"Whatever the case," Shiho said, "we were intended to be used against Sensei. He specifically told us to go to Shuji—he didn't want us anywhere near the fray...speaking of, why Shuji in particular?"

A brief silence as we mulled it over.

"It's safest," Yagura said, eventually. "Rika's working for him. If he dies, she gets no money. We'll be fine if we manage to subdue Shuji and take him hostage. Which shouldn't be too difficult. As long as he isn't secretly a ninja, either."

The last few words were pointed. I flushed and nearly missed the next tree branch. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"It's not your fault," Shiho assured me, although she sounded troubled. "What tipped you off, anyway?"

"Her smell," I began, but I stopped mid-sentence.

"...Miyo?"

"Incoming," I hissed, and leapt forward. Accelerating.

The subtle whir of motion, rapidly approaching...had I not been paying attention I might have missed it. Our assailant was invisible, and it was only the hard sheen of killing intent that alerted me to its presence...

"_Hell_," said Yagura, and by the tone of his voice I knew that that the _thing _had arrived.

The thing lunged at me, but I couldn't see it, couldn't see _where how when._ Panicked, I acted on a whim and twisted to the left. It was lucky I did, too—what had been intended as a killing blow fell shy of its original target, so it didn't murder me gruesomely and instead just drove painfully into my right side. I maneuvered myself backwards, attempting to roll with the blow, maximize time of impact, minimize damage...

And then my foot met thin air and I realized I had just run off the tree branch.

_Well, shoot._

I flailed and tried to see past my panic but I was falling and things were oddly blurry and it was _hard_ to see things when I was panicking and I was falling and someone was yelling and everything was happening too fast_—_

_—_and I was _falling—_

My hand closed around a passing tree branch and instincts honed from years of Academy training took over.

Head, shoulders, arms, core. Redirect momentum. Swing over and inward, towards the trunk. Reposition feet. Contact with bark. A quick burst of chakra and I was no longer falling, but flying.

Above me were sounds of yelling and grunts, of dull thuds and the clashing of metal. My teammates were fighting the invisible assailant. I had to help. Had to get _closer_.

Then the thing spoke, and I froze at the sheer coldness of the voice.

"Aw, how cute. The little rats want to play, hmm?"

And I realized.

This was Rika.

No, no. Worse. This was an _invisible_ Rika. She was masking her chakra, like before—only this time, it was completely hidden. No flickering warmth, not even a telltale hole in the air. I couldn't detect her at all.

"If it's playtime you want, it's playtime you'll get...would you prefer a swift death or a slow one, I wonder...?"

She laughed. It was a horrid sound.

"I think I'll start with you, there. Girl with the ugly eyes."

She must have lunged at Shiho, because suddenly Shiho was darting around, fending off an invisible attacker with a spray of shuriken and kunai. Yagura had also leapt into the fray, ducking and weaving around Shiho's projectiles, throwing punches and kicks at empty air...

Fear and frustration welled up within me. How was I supposed to help when I couldn't even see our assailant?

Yagura gave a sudden yelp, and the horrifying smell of blood filled the air. I froze. The scent was strong—too strong—too much blood—_oh god_—

"You—" Shiho began, her voice horrified, but abruptly cut off. A dull thud, and then Shiho was down as well, clutching at her chest and gasping.

_Winded,_ I thought, frantically. _She's only winded. He's only unconscious. They still have warmth. They're still alive. They have to be._

"You're an annoying little brat, aren't you?" Rika said softly. Yagura rose into the air, as if held by an invisible foe. "Unfortunately for you, I grow weary of games..."

Her intent struck me like a sack of bricks. Kill him. She was going to kill him.

"Goodbye, little rat."

Shiho let out a strangled choke. I didn't even think; my hands were moving faster than they ever had before—

A poof, and we switched places.

Yagura was taller than me. Instead of slitting my throat, Rika's kunai cut a jagged, awkward line along my jaw.

For a moment, there was utter silence. Then Rika snarled at me.

"You," she said, voice growing low and dangerous. Quickly, I began making the seals to escape once more, but she dropped me, tearing my hands apart and twisting them behind my back.

"You think this is funny, with your Academy level tricks and Substitution games?"

_No_, I thought._ I don't think it's funny at all_.

"Is this what Konoha teaches its genin nowadays? Run and hide, cheap tricks and smokescreens? The children of Konoha have grown fat and soft. Where I'm from, these pitiful attempts at parlor tricks would get you _murdered_. Child or no."

Without warning, I lashed out at her with my foot. She hissed but caught it easily.

"_Rat_. I'm going to—"

"Ri...Rika-san."

Shiho?

"...Oh? The ugly-eyed girl speaks," Rika said, the deadliness in her tone replaced by dark amusement. "What is it, girl?"

"Please...stop," Shiho said, voice weak. "We'll...forfeit the mission. We won't...hinder or...in...interfere with your business. We...we have no quarrel with you, so please put down our teammate."

"You think this is about your _mission_?" Her laughter sounded just a bit insane. "Oh, how _precious! _No, darling, this is about protecting information. Dead men tell no tales—surely even Konoha whelps can grasp that concept?

"Although," she continued, voice softening, "I might as well find out what I can, while you're still alive... You." She gave me a rough shake. "How did you discover us?"

"Mi..._Miyo_," Shiho said meaningfully, and I knew what she was trying to tell me.

_Talk_. I had to talk. For as long as I could. Shiho and Yagura were incapacitated, and I was a hostage. We needed help, and the longer I talked, the more time Kurai would have to return to us with an ally. An ally that was preferably Aoba-sensei.

"Um, well...it was an ordinary C-rank mission at first," I said slowly, trying not to wince at how my voice cracked. "I...well, we came here...er, very hilly place, by the way...and, uh, well. It was a C-rank. A mission. An ordinary C-rank—"

Rika struck me in the side and I involuntarily cried out.

"Stop dithering," she said, "and get to the point."

"I—I—we—I, we followed you," I squeaked. "Me and Shiho and Yagura and Aoba-sensei. We were...at the, the pub...tavern, place—Twin Hills—and also the...Shuji's office. Hara Admin...Administration Building. There were...there were..."

Not wanting to divulge information unnecessarily, I scanned my surroundings, searching for a sign. But Kurai was nowhere to be found, and Rika was getting impatient.

"There were records," I said, resigned.

"Records?" she hissed, agitated. "There were _records?_ Why would there be records? What kind of records?"

"Incriminating ones?" I offered, but somehow Rika interpreted that as cheekiness and struck me again. I was beginning to feel like a living bruise. "I mean, like. Shipments. Journals. Documents? Shady business with the Gatou Company? Financial statements?"

Rika's fingers tightened on my arms. "And why would Hara have our financial records? ...Do we even _have_ financial records?"

The last part had been muttered to herself. It caught me completely off guard.

"Um..." Disoriented, I was beginning to suspect that we were not talking about the same thing.

Rika was still muttering to herself. "It seems that Hara has been withholding information from us...he knows far more than he led us to believe. He knows too much..."

Oh. I could see where this was going.

"I think, after you three are dealt with, I will kill him."

"But aren't you working for him?" I said. _Keep talking. Keep her talking._

"We can always get money through...other means," she said, a nasty smile in her voice. Well, there went the Shuji-as-hostage plan. "But for now...I think I will enjoy killing you."

And then it happened.

A wave of Rika's killing intent flooded the area, more potent than anything I've ever felt. It expanded rapidly, saturating the air—a brooding cloud of pestilence—until all I could think about was _death...over and over again..._

___(Death...we're all dying, all going to die, she's going to kill us, what were we thinking, we never stood a chance in the first place...)_

_(I'm going to die...)_

Here was a predator, staring down a mouse.

That was all; nothing else existed. The entire world had shrunk to just me and a killer.

_(I have to get away.)_

Her grip was iron; I couldn't move. Couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. Never had I wanted to _move_ so much in my life, to give in to the adrenaline pumping through my veins, to run_,_ to _move..._

And then, quite suddenly...I could.

I didn't know how, and I didn't care.

All I knew was that I was stumbling through empty air, with a predator behind me, and _I could move_.

_(Run.)_

I ran.

.

.

.

* * *

**A/N:**

Yeah. Miyo's a scaredy-cat.

I'm aware this chapter may be a tad confusing to readers. If you have any questions, feel free to shoot me a PM (or a review, either works) and I'll answer to the best of my ability.

Anyway, part one of the Hara Arc is a wrap. I originally intended for the Hara Arc to be one chapter...but this felt like a natural stopping point. It was getting kind of long, anyway. Next up is part two, in which Team Six gets their act together (sort of) and Miyo remembers that she can absorb chakra.

Also, that scene at the end I rewrote, like, five times. Fight scenes are indeed hard...and it wasn't even that intense of a fight. Gah. Silver Queen, I now feel your pain.

To all you savvy readers: I've a quick question. Why does Madara need to be alive to seal the ten-tails into himself, when all the revived undead jinchuuriki seem to be doing just fine with their respective tailed-beasts? Am I missing something here? It's been boggling my poor mind for a while, and any help in clearing this up would be appreciated.

On a different note: if you're looking for well-written SI-via-reincarnation fics, go read **_Pulling the Strings_** by Hubris Plus. Seriously, it's like major woah.

Other recommendations:

**_Looking Straight to the Sky_** by Searching. for. Enadi

**_The Cassandra Effect_** by CompYES

_**Memories of**** Rain**_ by Against. the. Current

And, if you don't mind stepping out of the Naruto fandom, I direct you to the wonderful marmaroth for...pretty much everything she writes. Particularly **_re SINHEART_**, for all you FMA fans out there.


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